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alt-rose · 3 years

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21 - colson baker

colson baker imagine

21 - Pete Davidson takes you out to celebrate your 21st birthday after SNL, and you make a new friend.

“this week a midwestern teenager was arrested for kidnapping livestock and hiding them in their neighbor’s garages. here to comment is our resident young person, (y/n) (y/l/n).”

you took a quick breath before you were pushed toward the weekend update desk. you rolled to a stop next to your castmate Michael Che before you dove into your bit with him about cows and the midwestern community.

you made your SNL debut last season when you were only nineteen. you quickly took over Pete Davidson’s former role as the “resident young person” among the cast, and you had formed a fast friendship with him over the last year and a half. he had been eager to take you out with his friends so that you could experience the true nightlife that New York could offer, and now that you were finally turning 21, he could do just that.

after you exited the stage from your weekend update skit, Pete caught you in the hallway as you headed back to your dressing room to get ready for your last skit.

“hey, next weekend,” Pete started catching your attention. “do you want to go out and celebrate your birthday? Maybe get shitfaced?”

“I don’t know. who’s gonna be there? I don’t really want to feel obligated to entertain people while you’re getting me drunk,” you said apprehensively.

“don’t worry. it’ll be a bunch of people you don’t know so you don’t have to worry about anything other than getting drunk. I’ll keep an eye on you, of course. keep you away from the creepos.”

“how thoughtful,” you say throwing yourself into one of the hair and make-up chairs. “but sure, it sounds fun.”

“great. I’ll get the party lined up for next Saturday after the show.”

you threw him a thumbs up before your attention was directed toward the make-up artist giving you an 80s look for your next skit.

“this week our very own (y/n) (y/l/n) turned 21. here to comment on finally becoming an adult is our resident young person, (y/n) (y/l/n).”

“hey Colin,” you call back to him when you roll up next to Colin Jost at the weekend update desk.

SNL did a similar skit when Pete turned 21 so the writers felt it was only right to do one for you.

“hey (y/n), how does it feel to finally be 21?” he asked tapping his pen on his desk.

“it feels great Colin. you know, it’s a bit of an adjustment, but I’m having a great time.”

“right, you’re finally legal now. you can do adult things.”

“yeah, now I can buy tropical fish at Randy’s Pet Shop by my apartment building. I have a fish named Chet now. he’s pretty cool.”

“wait, you have to be 21 to buy fish from Randy’s Pet Shop?”

“yeah, Randy’s got this weird thing,” you paused to make eye contact with Colin. “anyway, besides that, I don’t really feel like much of an adult, Colin. I’m like five-foot-something and still resemble a fourth grader. like look at me, Colin. I was given a kid’s menu at TGI F.R.I.D.A.Y.’S last week. I am not an adult.”

Colin laughed before looking at you. “(y/n), you really don’t think that you’ve grown in this past year? you haven’t felt like an adult in anyway?”

“no.”

“well, I think you have. you stopped ordering chicken fingers at every restaurant we go to for cast dinners. I think that’s a big step into adulthood.”

“yeah, well, joke’s on you because I have a bag of dino nuggies hidden in the back of the breakroom fridge.”

“what?”

“yeah, I just take a few out and wrapping them in tinfoil and heat them up in the microwave for four minutes-”

“wait, hold on, hold on,” Colin laughed waving his hand to stop you. “you put the nuggets in tinfoil before you put them in the microwave?”

“yeah, you just wrap them up in the tinfoil, and they cook really well. they get all sparky and stuff. they taste a little smokey though”

“you’re the reason why the breakroom microwave is always broken?”

“what?”

“(y/n), you’re not supposed to put tinfoil in the microwave,” Michael chimes in.

“you can’t put metal in the microwave. did you not know that?” Colin asked.

“what?” you put on the confused act.

“(y/n) (y/l/n), everybody,” Colin shouts turning to the audience and ending your segment on the update.

“who let me be an adult?” you laugh shouting to audience as Colin pulls you into a side hug. the crowd cheers as you wave to them.

“for weekend update, I’m Colin Jost.”

“And I’m Michael Che. GOODNIGHT.”

you continue to smile and laugh with both of the guys as the camera panned away from the stage and the recording light turned off. when you made it off stage, you started to head back to your dressing room. you had finished your last sketch of the night, so you planned on getting ready for your night out with Pete and whoever else he invited.

an hour later, you were crammed in the backseat of an uber next to Pete.

“where are we going?” you asked him as you check the battery on your phone.

“this club a few minutes away. it’s pretty lowkey. everyone’s going to meet us there.”

“okay, sounds good-”

“it’s actually right here,” he interrupts stopping the driver. “thanks, man.”

Pete opened the door of the car and climbed out. his lanky form towered over the small sedan. he leaned down to help you scoot over to open door. you took his hand as you scooted over to the door before sliding out of the car as best as you could in your mini skirt.

after both of your feet successfully hit the pavement, you adjusted your black leather mini skirt from riding up before you fixed you black turtleneck to make sure that it was still tucked into your skirt.

“ready?”

“yeah, let’s go.”

after making it past the bouncer, Pete led you over to the bar before dropping you off at a bar stool. you watched as he made his rounds saying hi to everyone. it was almost 1 am now. you began to wonder how late you were going to be out tonight.

you suddenly felt two hands on your shoulders causing you to slightly jump.

“you ready for your birthday drink?” Pete shouted in your ear.

“yeah, let’s do it,” you laugh turning to look at him.

“can we get four shots of Fireball?” he shouted to the bartender.

“four?” you shout over your shoulder at him. “I though you weren’t drinking.”

“I’m not. you are. you’re downing all of those.”

“oh god.”

he slapped his hands on your shoulders once more. “you got this, baby.”

the bartender placed the shots in front of you as Pete opened a tab.

“we doing this?” you asked staring at the shots.

“let’s do it.”

you grab your first shot before raising it as a cheers to him. you brought it to your lips and downed it. you felt it burn as it slid down your throat. you squeezed your eyes shut as you finished it.

“that was strong,” you cough.

“next one.”

you down the second one, and then the third one shortly followed. the cinnamon flavor left a burning sensation in your throat.

“last one, last one.” Pete shook your shoulders cheering you on.

“fuck this.” you downed the last one.

an hour into your party, it was clear to you that you were feeling very drunk. you had spent the last hour dancing with strangers on the dance floor before slipping back to the VIP section Pete had for you and some of the people at the party. after your first couple shots, he had introduced you to a few people, but at this point, you can’t remember your own name so how could you be expected to remember theirs.

you’re currently sipping on a tequila sunrise now that Pete decided that you handled enough straight liquor. you were slightly leaning on Pete as he stood next to you while you were sitting on one of the barstools for the high tabletops.

“yoooo,” you heard someone call as they approached your table. “dude, whassup.”

Pete leaned over to bro-hug someone before that person began to lean on your table next to Pete. you could hear their muffled conversation as you played with the straw in your drink.

“so what’s this party for anyway?”

“it’s a birthday party,” Pete yelled over the music.

“who’s birthday?”

“hers,” Pete said motioning to you causing you to look up at Pete and his friend. “this is my castmate, (y/n). she just turned 21 so we’re celebrating.”

your eyes met the stranger’s, and you smiled. he was pretty with his bleached-out hair. you gave him a small wave.

“I’m Colson,” he said extending his hand to yours.

“(y/n),” you said taking his hand.

“can I buy a drink for the birthday girl?” he asked flashing you a smile.

“sure,” you said before taking the last sip of your tequila sunrise.

when he brought you back a drink, you stood over your shoulder placing the drink in front of you.

“let’s fucking party.”

“okay,” you shouted before knocking back the drink and taking his hand to lead you to the dance floor.

you spent the rest of the night with a set of hands planted firmly around your waist. when you had finally had enough of drinking and dancing, you made your way back over to the VIP section with your six-foot shadow following behind you with his hands still on your hips.

“I’m tired,” you say to Pete as you approach your seat the table. your shadow rested against your back as you hopped up onto the barstool.

“do you want to head home?” Pete asked leaning close to you and your shadow, Colson.

“kinda,” you said leaning your head back on Colson. your drunken state couldn’t careless that you were practically laying against a total stranger.

“do you even have a place to stay tonight?” Pete asked Colson as he looked up from you to the tall guy behind you.

“not really. I could just get a hotel,” you could hear Colson tell Pete.

“you guys can just crash at my apartment. I have a couch and a guest bedroom,” you interrupt as you stare off into space.

“are you sure?” Pete asked.

“yeah, let’s just go home.”

“cool with you?” Pete asked Colson.

“I’m cool,” Colson answered.

10 minutes later, the three of you were sitting in the backseat of a black car, which you assumed was an uber. you head rested against someone’s shoulder as you began to close your eyes.

you felt someone jostle you awake. you opened your eyes to find that the uber had parked in front of your building. Pete was leaning in the car once more to help you out. you blinked the sleep out of your eyes as you took his hands. he helped you out of the car just as he had when you got to the club. you felt a pair of hands gently adjust your skirt, and you whipped your head around to find Colson standing behind of you.

“your skirt was riding up, baby,” he said to you while he tapped your hip.

“thanks,” you murmur.

you slapped your keys into Pete’s hand as he went to buzz you in with your code to the building. you began to walk to the door with Colson resting his arm around your shoulder. he kept you walking upright as you both entered the building. you took the elevator up 12 floors.

when you finally stepped foot into your apartment, you stood in the doorway and ripped your heeled boots from your feet. Pete dropped your keys into the bowl by your door, and Colson closed the door behind the three of you.

you turned around to the both of them, almost tripping over your own feet.

“kitchen,” you said pointing to the kitchen, “couch,” pointing to the living room, “guest room,” pointing to the guest room, “bathroom,” you pointed to the bathroom door. “there’s extra blankets in the closet,” you said pointing to the small closet by the bathroom. “help yourself to anything. I’m going to sleep.” you gave them a salute before turning around to your bedroom.

they laughed lightly as you slammed the door behind you.

as you stumbled into your room, you plugged your phone into the charger on your nightstand. after your phone was charging, you slipped your skirt and turtleneck off before slipping on an oversized t-shirt. you quickly wiped off your makeup before falling face down in your bed.

the next morning, you woke up with blurry eyes and a fog in your head. you blinked a couple times before rolling over to fall back asleep. you had your eyes closed as you tried to fall back asleep.

that’s when you heard a crash in the kitchen.

you whipped yourself out of bed, and you grabbed the baseball bat from under your bed. you took a deep breath before throwing your bedroom door open. with your bat raised, you lunged out of your bedroom at the intruder.

instead of the intruders, you found Pete and some guy standing in your kitchen messing with your pots and pans.

“jesus fucking christ, Pete, what the fuck?”

“oh, sleeping beauty’s up,” the guy called waving his arms out to you with your skillet and spatula in his hands.

“who is this? and what the fuck are you doing?” you shout annoyed at Pete.

“This is Colson, my friend who you met last night, but guessing from your reaction, you don’t remember much. you let us stay over, and now we are making breakfast,” he said before going back to whatever he was doing.

you felt Colson’s gaze on you. you dropped your bat on your shoulder as you met his stare. you glared into his eyes as he intensely stared back into yours.

“nice bat,” he said still staring.

“thanks, I played softball,” you glared back. “I’m gonna go put some clothes on.”

“you don’t have to,” you heard Colson call back to you as he watched you retreat to your room. from your room, you could hear Pete yell at him in the kitchen.

you laughed lightly as you threw on a pair of sweatpants and put a bra on under your oversized shirt. you took a scrunchie and threw your hair up before heading back to the kitchen.

you plopped yourself down on one of the counter stools in your kitchen.

“what are we eating?” you ask the guys.

“I’m attempting to make pancakes with whatever you have,” Colson called back to you.

“fantastic,” you reply.

“how’s your head?” Pete asked from his spot at the counter.

“it’s not bad. I don’t feel very hungover,” you replied.

“that’s surprising seeing how much you drank last night.”

“what even happened last night?”

“you drank a lot. you danced a lot. then, Colson showed up. then, you drank and danced some more with him.”

“wow,” you mutter staring off into space before you felt Colson staring at you again. you met his eyes before speaking up, “I apologize for that and whatever I did.”

“I didn’t mind,” he said before flipping a pancake.

“it was so funny. you were like one of those velcro monkeys wrapped around him all night,” Pete laughed.

“don’t make fun of me,” you yelled before whacking Pete with a dish towel on the counter. “you’re the one who got me drunk.” they both laughed before you looked up at Colson once more. “I am definitely apologizing for that.”

“I don’t mind. I liked being your arm candy for the night,” he said plopping a pancake on a plate.

you rolled your eyes before opening your phone. “what’s the damage? was there any paparazzi last night?”

“weelllllll,” Pete drew out.

“what?” you whine dropping your head a bit.

“there’s a few from when we left the club, and they followed us back to your building so there’s a few from then too. there’s two articles running already.”

“just because we went out for drinks?” you ask motioning between you and Pete.

“no, because we,” Colson motioned between the three of you. “went out for drinks.” he dropped a plate in front of you. “apology pancakes for the tabloids.”

“how thoughtful,” you murmur. “what did the articles say?”

“nothing just speculation,” Pete said taking a drink. “it’ll go away. you just might want to keep away from Colson for a while.”

“you’re kidding,” you said opening your phone before typing your name into safari.

you scrolled through the new section before you found the pictures from last night. in the pictures, Colson had his arm wrapped around your waist as you were shielding your eyes from the flash. you assumed these pictures were from when you left the club. the other pictures were of the guys helping you out of the car. Colson was standing behind you, towering over you with his arm around you. it totally looked like the two of you were a thing with how touchy you two were. you were not a touchy person when you were sober. you could only assume that the alcohol turned you into a velcro monkey as Pete put it. you briefly skimmed the articles only to find that they were speculating that you and Machine Gun Kelly, Colson Baker, were in a relationship.

“Machine Gun Kelly. you’re Machine Gun Kelly?” you ask him, squinting your eyes at Colson.

he and Pete laughed at you.

“I was wondering if you were going to put it together,” Pete laughed. “that took you forever.”

“well, I’m sorry, but I was drunk.”

“you knew I was friends with MGK,” Pete laughed.

“I didn’t think you were going to invite him to my birthday party.”

“so I take it you’re a fan?” Colson said raising an eyebrow at you.

“I’m not actually. I haven’t even heard your stuff. I’m not really into rap,” you said to him.

“ouch. that’s rough,” he sighed.

“sorry,” you shrugged. “thanks for the pancakes though.” you give him a smile before taking a bite.

Pete’s phone buzzed before he got up from his stool.

“shit, I have to go. I have to take my mom to the airport. are you going to be okay if I leave you?” Pete asked staring at you.

“yeah, I’ll be fine. tell your mom hi for me,” you said looking up at him.

“okay, bye kid. happy birthday.” he wrapped his arms around you.

“thanks for getting me drunk. I had fun,” you said patting his arm.

“yeah, I know,” he called back as he headed to your door.

“be safe,” you shouted before he closed your front door, leaving you with Colson in your kitchen.

you and Colson took a pause as you both watched the door. he was the first to break his gaze as he turned to you. you both made eye contact as you both stared at each other.

“so,” you started.

“so,” he replied leaning down on your counter to stare at you at your eye level.

“so.”

“so, what do we do now?”

“we can watch tv, or you can tell me about last night,” you suggest before shoving another bite into your mouth.

you were not bashful when it came to eating, and you were not deterred by Colson staring into your eyes as you chewed, even if he was really pretty.

“what do you want to know?” he said. his gaze never leaving your eyes.

“we seemed very touchy in those photos,” you hummed taking another forkful of pancakes.

“can’t help that your kinda hot.”

“wow,” you scoff leaning back from the counter. “this is hot for you,” you say shoving the pancakes in your mouth.

“very,” he laughed.

you peered an eye up at him, skeptically. you couldn’t tell if he was being serious. there was no way that someone as pretty as he was would be interested in you.

he extended his hand out to you face as your eyes watched it move to your lip. he flicked a piece of pancake from your lip before smiling at you. you heart practically jumped out of its chest.

fuck. you were crushing.

the two of you hung out and talked for the next hour. you both flirted a bit back and forth. you felt this undeniable connection to him, and it made you feel sick. you were notorious for running from people and your feelings. you always chickened out before saying anything to them, and then when you finally got the courage to, that person had already found somebody else.

“fuck, I should go,” Colson said throwing his head back on the couch from where the two of you were sitting. “I don’t want to though.”

“I need to shower and get started with some pitches for work tomorrow,” you say lightly placing your head on the back of the couch.

“okay, I’ll go.”

“I’ll walk you down.”

he took your hand in his as he got up from the couch. he pulled you up as he grabbed his jacket from where it was placed on the arm of the couch.

you grabbed your keys before he pulled you out the door. you closed the door behind you before the two of you waited for the elevator.

you laced your fingers with his as you stepped into the elevator. here goes nothing, you breathed.

“I had a lot of fun with you,” you say staring straight at the doors of the elevator.

he turned to you with you fingers still locked with his. “I really like you.”

“cool, cool,” you say as you saw the number on the elevator tick to floor 6. you turn to him. “I should give you my number.”

he slipped you his phone, and you typed your number into his phone before handing back to him.

“cool, cool,” he started as he slipped his phone back into his pocket.

you counted before grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him down to your height. you stood on your tiptoes, and you placed your lips on his. he grabbed your face as he kissed you back.

the elevator dinged as the doors opened. you broke away from him as you shoved him out the doors.

“call me sometime,” you say as you stood alone in the elevator.

“aye aye captain,” he saluted you. he moved back toward the elevator before pulling you back to him. “one more for the road.” he kissed you until you couldn’t breathe.

you finally pulled away for air while he held his hands on your head.

“you’re fucking gorgeous.”

“you’re not too bad yourself. now go so I can work,” you said fully pulling away before the elevator alarm was set off. “Bye Colson,” you said hitting your floor button.

“Bye (y/n),” he waved as the doors shut.

as you made your way back to your apartment, your phone dinged.

unknown number: hi velcro monkey

you rolled your eyes as you entered your apartment. this man was going to be the death of you.

first Colson Baker imagine. feel free to send requests. - rose xx

#mgk #machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly imagines #colson baker #colson baker imagines #colson baker x reader #machine gun kelly x reader

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julemmaes · 4 years

Note

Congrats! "They should have known that fake dating never goes according to plan." for Rowaelin please 😊

He Truly Loves Her - October 8th

Rowan Whitethorn x Aelin Galathynius

A/N: Same as before, I’m really sorry I didn’t post it yesterday, but I couldn’t find the time to write this and didn’t want to post some shitty stuff just because. I hope you like it, enjoy!:)

Word count: 1,502

Elide was watching Lysandra desperately trying to get Aelin away from the bar.

She and Nehemiah had sidelined with Lorcan when the songs had become too slow for them to keep on going and now couples on couples were swinging like a herd of dying cows.

Elide laughed at her own thought, only slightly drunk. Lorcan looked at her confusedly, arching an eyebrow, "What are you laughing at?" he asked her by putting his arm around her hips and pulling her to his side. Nehemiah looked at them with affection and Elide winked at her, smiling slyly.

She turned towards her boyfriend, taking his nose between two fingers. Lorcan moved until he was free from her grip, and squeezed her wrists to hold her still while she giggled. Elide knew full well how much Lorcan loved the drunk her.

"Nothing, I like that you and I are not cows." the boy burst out laughing, asking her what he was babbling about, but Elide was no longer watching him. Her attention was once again captured by Aelin and Lysandra.

Nehemiah squeezed in her shoulders next to Elide, "I feel so sorry for her." she murmured as Alein struggled to stand on those heels, then her expression got sour, "And I'd really like to talk to him about what an asshole he is."

Elide's gaze shifted to the center of the improvised dance floor in Dorian's house, where an equal slightly drunk Rowan was dancing with a girl they all knew very well.

Lyria Ballard had been with Rowan for more than four years. They had met at the end of high school and had been together all through college, making everyone believe that once they were out of school they would live together in one of those mansions you see on TV, with a perfect, large, happy family. No one would have expected that once back from summer vacation they would announce their breakup.

It hadn't been difficult to keep the group together, Lyria had moved to another state shortly afterwards and Rowan had met other people, including Aelin.

The blonde girl had been a thunderbolt for the boy and a burst of life for the whole group. She had brought so many new people into their small circle that sometimes Elide forgot how many they really were.

"Maybe I should go talk to him, this story is getting too complicated," said Lorcan interrupting her thoughts.

She shook her head, "Ae asked us not to say anything and we will do so. Rowan will realize the mistake he is making on his own."

In front of Lorcan's upset but determined face, Nehemiah added, "We mean it Lor, Aelin says that if he doesn't realize it himself, it's not worth it. If he really has any feelings beyond friendship for her, he should act of his own, not because a friend of his has pointed it out."

Lorcan turned to her at that point, "So should we just stand here and watch while those two destroy each other?"

Elide was inclined to support his point of view, but she took his hand squeezing it, "Aelin asked us not to interfere and we won't."

Nehemiah sighed next to her and then they fell silent again, watching Rowan laughing at something the girl in his arms had just told him.

When Lyria had returned it had been embarrassing to say the least.

Aelin and Rowan had never been together and there had been a long period, at the beginning of their friendship, when they couldn't stand each other for more than two minutes before one of them lashed out and started to insult the other badly, but once they got over that cliff, they started acting like an old married couple.

Elide still remembered when Fenrys had gone to her completely euphoric and gave her a speech about how he had never seen Rowan so happy with anyone, not even Lyria.

So when she had come back from Hybern only a few months later with the intention of staying in Adarlan forever and Rowan had proposed to Aelin that she pretend to be his girlfriend on some occasion to make Lyria jealous, the few who knew about it were shocked.

And they were even more shocked when Aelin had accepted the deal, saying that she, too, could use this to make one of the guys in her class, Sam Cortland, jealous.

Elide had read enough books to know where the bullshit was going.

Manon approached the trio with a clever smile on her face and patted Elide on the shoulder before asking, "What are you looking at? You guys all look like creeps."

When no one answered, she frowned, following the gaze of her friends to the massive figure of Rowan, "Ah, yeah." she whispered, taking a sip of her water. Manon was the designated driver that night, " Would anyone care to tell me what Galathynius' boyfriend is doing, or?"

Lorcan snorted, "They're not really together M, they were just fake dating."

Manon's head snapped in Elide's direction, looking for confirmation, "Fake dating? You're joking."

Nehemiah shook her head, "I'd rather."

"Rowan really got everybody. Aelin especially," added Elide, sitting on one of the chairs against the wall.

Manon laughed, "No guys, mine wasn't a question. You're joking, period." she said. Elide looked at her with a confused grimace, "What do you mean?"

"That they're not fake dating," Manon pointed out, taking her seat next to her.

Aelin, from across the room, burst into tears, and although Elide could not hear her, she knew it must have been a desperate cry, because all the people around her turned around and looked at her worryingly. She was about to get up and go to her, but Lysandra was already escorting her out of the room.

Elide turned again towards Manon, "Yes, they are."

"No, they're not."

"Yes, they really are." Nehemiah meddled.

"Are you trying to tell me that every time we went out and Lyria wasn't there or that Sam wasn't nearby, those two were making eyes at each other for fun?" asked the white-haired girl, "Or that every holy football game we've seen in the last few weeks when Aelin ran out onto the field to hug Rowan and kissed him in front of everyone, it was just practice?" Manon puffed, irritated, pointing to the dance floor where an upset Lyria was standing motionless in front of Rowan. Rowan, who was looking around alarmed.

"I have known Rowan since we were children. We grew up together and in the last few months he has done nothing but talk about Aelin." she started, "Aelin this, Aelin that." she huffed a laugh. "Yeah, it's true. They think they're faking it, but that-" she pointed a finger back at Rowan, who was now talking to a not-little-irritated Aedion, "Well, that's not faking it." she took a sip of water, "And believe me when I tell you I haven't heard Rowan say Lyria's name half a time in the last ten days."

Fenrys approached the two boys, an equally pissed off expression on his face. Elide managed to pick up the words "Lyria" and "piece of shit" from his speech. Rowan looked like a clubbed dog desperately trying to hide his tail between his legs.

"No one looks at anyone else the way he looks at her unless they promised eternal love to each other." Manon concluded, crossing her legs. "Those two are not faking dating. They just don't know it."

Rowan ran his hand over his face and Elide almost snapped when he turned around and walked towards Lyria. He took her by the hand and pulled her off the dance floor.

Lorcan did not seem to be in a more controlled condition than she was and Elide was amazed to see such outrage on his face. After all, Rowan was his best friend, but she was happy to find out that if Rowan did something stupid he wouldn't just blindly support him.

"They should have known that fake dating never goes according to plan." Nehemiah murmured, she sighed and walking away shortly afterwards towards the bar where Fenrys and Aedion were still talking.

Lyria was nodding disoriented, but she smiled at the end when Rowan seemed to apologize and put her hand on his arm. He smiled apologetically and she stood up tiptoeing, leaving a kiss on his cheek and pushing him towards the exit.

Manon got up at that point, looking at the couple sitting next to her. "Trust me guys, he truly loves her and if I know Rowan even a little bit, we can all trust that tomorrow morning Aelin will be the happiest person in the world," she smiled like one who knows what they're talking about and walked away.

Rowan was nodding, looking more scared than anything else, and ran towards the door of the house, towards Aelin.

Perhaps Manon was right. Maybe the next day Aelin would finally be happy.

tog tag list (if you want to be added/removed just send an ask or dm me)

@tottenhamboys20 @maastrash @ireallyshouldsleeprn

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malfoyfarms · 4 years

Text

Behind His Back

maybe a rafe imagine? i get it if you don’t want to write for him :) -nonnie

hi can you do a fluff/angst with rafe pls 🥺🥺-nonnie

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

T/W: couple a swear words

A/N: So I managed to finish three requests bc I’m sitting in the barn waiting for my last three cows to calve... hopefully they’ll all be posted soon!

You pushed the lobster and pasta around your plate trying to avoid any conversation with the adults who were gathered around you. The polka dotted dress you were wearing was constricting your movement, probably on purpose so you wouldn’t mess up the perfectly pinned back hair.

Your family had invited the Cameron’s over this evening, celebrating you and Rafe’s one and a half years of dating. To you it felt like a business deal, but all you wanted from your parents was to hear “We’re proud of you,” and if that meant dating Rafe Cameron, then so be it.

You weren’t one to lie, you had fallen in love with the boy, but things between the two of you weren’t exactly the same as when you had first announced your partnership. Deep down you two understood each other, but it still didn’t completely outweigh the unhealthy behavior.

“So Y/N, where have you been looking for college? I know your Mom’s an alum of Wake Forest,” Ward asked you from across the large table. Swallowing your bite and wiping your mouth, you prepared your answer. Rafe and I were a year apart, him already attending the university in Chapel Hill.

“It was supposed to be a surprise for next week, but I accepted a position to play field hockey at Dartmouth College,” you responded absentmindedly. You flashed a large smile, feeling Rafe’s hand tighten around your thigh. He hated thinking about the two of you parting ways for college, therefore you never talked about it.

“Y/N, I thought you were applying to UNC Chapel Hill?” Rafe asked, caught off guard by the response you gave his father.

“No, not anymore. With double legacy, a first-gen woman at Dartmouth, and a position to keep playing field hockey, I’d be stupid not to accept,” I stated, getting heated. My two older brothers made eye contact with Sarah, John B and Wheezie, knowing it was about to get interesting.

“It’s beautiful here in North Carolina, why would you want to leave?”

“I can ski in New Hampshire,” I retorted.

“We’re a team, Y/N, I thought we talked about decisions before we made them,” Rafe was turning red. You were challenging him, in front of both families and a pogue.

“We’re not married, Rafe, I can make my own decisions,” You rolled your eyes. As if anything more could go wrong, your eldest brother threw in a comment about a friend of his he could introduce you to so you can acclimate to the campus properly.

“I just can’t believe you went behind my back when making such a life altering decision. What you chose affects my reputation,” He was looking down at you, like you were a dog and he was your owner. You were ready to destroy, destroy, destroy, just like Daddy had taught his little girl.

“Oh, so it’s okay to go behind my back and do drugs with Topper and Kelce, or go around beating the shit out of the kids from the cut?” His eyes were starting to dart around as the entire table kept watching. You weren’t finished though. “It’s okay to go behind my back and take my tip money to pay your drug lord? Rafe, your actions affect my reputation.” You spat with a mocking tone. Everyone was silent.

You stood up, pushed in your chair and made your way to your bedroom. You hadn’t even had the door closed before you stripped your dress off, replacing it with shorts and a sweatshirt representing your future commitment.

Tears were pricking your eyes due to the scene you had caused downstairs. Your mother would be furious without a doubt, but your dad may let you off the hook, you were his baby girl. All you wanted to do was impress your parents with the academic and athletic achievement, but once again you let Rafe’s words cause actions that took that very moment away from you.

It was going on 3:30 in the morning, when you heard your brother walk down the hall towards your room. Quickly wiping your eyes, and standing up to greet him.

“Rafe is on the front porch waiting for you. He called me like nine times because you decided to turn off your phone,” he said. “I can make him go away if you want.”

You shrugged your shoulders and silently made your way to your boyfriend. Once you opened the door and took in his appearance as it matched your own. Red-rimmed eyes, runny nose and twitchy hands.

Here the vicious cycle began again. You’d fight, make a fool of each other, and then run right back to each other. You slid right into his arms, holding onto him as tight as your hands could. This cycle was the only way you knew how to love. You had learned from your parents, seeing many situations such as the one that had just played out between you and Rafe.

What you noticed was that as you gripped him, he didn’t return the favor. He gently peeled your arms off of his body, then turning away and wiping his eyes.

“Look, Y/N, after the scene you caused tonight, I think we,” he paused. You knew exactly where this was going. You had thrown too big of a fit this time. “We need to take a break for a little, get ourselves on the right path, then possibly rejoin.”

“Rafe what the fuck, did you just recite that from a script?” he wouldn’t make eye contact with you, proving your theory correct.

“No, I just think it’s best for us, this way we can figure out what we’re doing before you leave in the fall.”

“Rafe, I leave the second week of May to start practices, we either fix this now, or end it now,” you whimpered, revealing another secret you hadn’t had time to tell anyone yet.

“Goodbye Y/N.”

It was the annual Christmas Party at the Country Club, and you were not looking forward to it. All the kook families were going to be there, including the Cameron’s. It wasn’t Ward, or Rose, or even Sarah that you were scared to see, it was Rafe. Ward wasn’t as upset as you thought he would be to find out you had ended things with his son, probably more focused on cleaning the reputation his son had picked up.

The preppy skirt and sweater combination you had on complemented your new body type, highlighting the now more developed muscles. One semester of collegiate sports had completely changed you. You finished pinning back your front pieces of hair and made your way to the living room where your family and your new boyfriend were waiting.

His name was Wilder Buchanon, a third year at Dartmouth, you had met over the summer as he was another fellow athlete. Your families adored one another, almost more than the two of you’s attraction to each other.

As you made your way into the venue, all eyes were on you once again. You were flooded with greetings from other kook kids, asking how New Hampshire was, about your studies, and most importantly the man standing next to you. Everything around was a blur when your eyes met Rafe’s from across the room.

He didn’t look the same. His eyes had dark circles around them, his shoulders were slightly hunched as if he was trying to hide. He overall just didn’t look well.

“Wilder, I’m going to go get something to drink, I’ll be right back,” he nodded in acknowledgement and removed his hand from your back.

Your feet carried you towards the former lover, and he instantly looked at you. He flashed a soft smile and took in your new appearance. Your y/h/c hair had grown long, you had put on muscle, not in a bad way.

“You look good kid,” he chuckled softly.

“How have you been doing Rafe?” There was a genuine tone to your voice.

“Better, I’m officially two months sober, and I’ll be going back to Chapel Hill in the spring,” he responded.

He didn’t expect you to envelope him in a hug, and tell him you were proud of him, but he accepted it greatly. Of course his smile softened when he met Wilder, but he was right. The two of you needed to work on yourselves as the relationship the two of you shared was unhealthy. He couldn’t be mad at Wilder for falling for such a wonderful girl like you.

“Go back to be with your boy,” he said softly. “Just remember kid, I’ll always be in your corner.” He moved your hair behind your ear, and sent you on your way.

#outer banks #outer banks imagine #rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #obx #obx imagine #jj maybank #john b #kiara carrera #sarah obx #pope heyward

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marialenikiforov · 4 years

Text

Daisuzu short fic💕

Tired of not knowing about Suzue's true feelings, Daisuke plots a way to make Suzue fall for him. It doesn't go as planned.

Suzue had proven to be the most loyal person to Daisuke, someone he could really trust with everything, including his life. Aside from helping him to solve the mess regarding the Kambe family, the girl had saved his life on countless occasions already, sometimes even putting her own life and safety at risk just for him.

Daisuke never considered himself to be someone that believed in romance. He never had a girlfriend during his years at University, his 'love' life revolved around one night stands with several girls he met during his night outs at clubs. However, Suzue made him feel things he never felt before. Having someone that cared that much for him made him feel better than any sex-filled night ever could. It took him some time, but after being away from her for a while due to her vacations Daisuke finally accepted that he had fallen in love with her.

Weird thing love was. Sometimes he felt happy just by seeing her or having her close, but there were also times when he felt annoyed over the smallest things. An example of this was whenever Suzue seemed distant.

Aside from that time when Suzue pulled him under the covers to hide from HEUSC, she was annoyingly 'distant' with him. The two had known for years and yet she continued to call him Daisuke-sama, she continued to act as just an employee when he never treated her like that... or at least not on purpose.

That thought drove him crazy, Suzue was always very polite, very sweet, very caring of him. He loved it, but at the same time made it difficult for him to distinguish her feelings towards him. He knew she cared a lot for him, but did she loved him? Kato thought they were a married couple when Daisuke first introduced him to Suzue. That should mean something, right?

There were times when Suzue was so clingy with him, mostly when he came back from dangerous missions, but there were times when he felt how she kept him at arm's length. He sometimes hated himself for seeming a teenager who had a crush, but everything felt so confusing when it came to Suzue. Then again, he never allowed himself to get this attached to someone before.

Daisuke was deeply lost in his thoughts when a knock on the door of his room followed by a very familiar voice brought him down to Earth.

"Come in."

As the door opened he was able to see the girl that was currently the cause of the mess inside his head and heart. Suzue was dressed in her usual clothes and wore that sweet yet worried expression on her face.

"Daisuke-sama, do you feel all right? You've been in your room since breakfast was over." Suzue said while she approached him.

Daisuke was sitting on a chair close to an open glass door, a cigar on his right hand which he quickly put away since he knew Suzue wasn't too fond of that smell.

"Yes. Just checking in with Kato about the adollium situation." He lied.

"How strange! HEUSC didn't inform me anything about a situation that requires your attention, Daisuke-sama." Suzue said as she furrowed her eyebrows. She could tell that something was off but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. "I can help you with anything if you need me. I'll be in the lab doing some research." She announced with a more relaxed expression. She was determined to help him.

Before he could say anything, Suzue had turned and left him alone once again. Daisuke sighed. He needed to know what she felt for him, but how? He tried to think about his previous experiences with girls, or at least the ones from his former classmates.

After some minutes, Daisuke made up his mind and touched his left ear to activate HEUSC.

----

Suzue found herself sitting on a couch directly in front of Daisuke. The music roared loud around them at the rooftop of one of the most exclusive clubs in London. Daisuke was surrounded by girls dressed in provocative dressed and he seemed to enjoy himself.

She felt stupid for thinking that this was some kind of date. When Daisuke asked her to dress nicely she never imagined that she would be left to watch how other girls offered themselves to him. Several men had approached her already offering drinks but she rejected them all. She just wanted to go back home and convince herself that all of it had been some kind of nightmare.

The moment a girl sat on Daisuke's lap, Suzue had enough. She stood up and walked away from the scene. She touched her earring.

"HEUSC, send my car to Daisuke-sama location. I'm going home."

"Understood."

Suzue could feel the tears burning in her eyes already as she made her way to the elevator. She had been a fool, how could she think that Daisuke had finally see her as a woman? She pressed the button and waited impatiently until the doors opened.

What she never expected was that someone else managed to jump inside the elevator with her before the doors closed. She pressed the button for the lobby while ignoring the man in front of her.

"Where are you going?" Daisuke asked.

"Daisuke-sama, with all the respect you deserve... why would you care? You were quite busy a moment before."

Daisuke felt like a bucket of ice-cold water was throw at him. He had messed up badly by trying to make Suzue jealous.

"Suzue I-"

"I'm going home, HEUSC already sent my car. Keep having fun, sir."

Suzue sounded hurt and as much as she tried to hide it Daisuke could tell that she was crying. Her face was visibly red along with her eyes. He tried to get close to her but Suzue pushed him away, which felt like a stab to Daisuke's heart.

How could he possibly think that this was a good idea? He remembered some of his old friends doing it, maybe he should have asked Kato for advice before actually doing it.

"Suzue, please listen to me," Daisuke said visibly guilty.

"I never thought you could be this cruel, Daisuke-sama. Bringing someone who loves you to see how you flirt with all these girls."

He froze. Did Suzue just-?

"You what?"

Suzue finally looked at him as the doors opened. "As if you didn't know already!" She walked outside the elevator and into the lobby of the building. "HEUSC, how long till the car gets here?"

"Five minutes, Suzue-sama."

She grumbled and listened to the familiar sound that Daisuke's shoes made as he ran. Suzue quickly walked out of the building to wait for her car, but once she was outside she felt a hand around one of her wrists.

Daisuke was staring at her, she could see the deep regret in his eyes. He could make her so weak sometimes that she almost forgive him in that instant.

"Why Daisuke-sama? Why?" She asked, unable to contain the tears any longer.

He pulled her for a hug, which she tried to reject at first.

"I was an asshole, Suzue," Daisuke explained as he felt how she slowly let herself be hugged close to his chest. "I never wanted to hurt you. I just-" He sighed and prepared for the worst. "I love you too Suzue. I have loved you for quite some time already, but since I didn't know how you felt about me I thought I could maybe make you jealous if you see me with other women. In... my mind that would make you fell in love with me too... maybe."

Suzue looked up at him. Even with the tears in her eyes, he could tell that she was mad at him. Daisuke thought this was definitely the end, Suzue would quit, she would go back to Japan and Daisuke would be left alone once more. And... with all honesty, he felt like he certainly deserved it.

Suzue pulled away from the hug and Daisuke closed his eyes to prepare himself for a slap on his face. Surprisingly, it never came. Instead, he felt a smack on his arm. When he opened his eyes Suzue was still mad, but at the same time, he could see the smallest glimpse of a smile on her face.

"Making me jealous? What kind of teenager plan is that, Daisuke-sama?" Suzue said in tears. "N-never do something like this again. I can't- I-"

Daisuke gently wiped away the tears from her face with his thumbs. "I won't. I promise I won't hurt you ever again. Please forgive me."

Suzue nodded slowly, feeling how he grabbed her chin with two fingers before kissing her. The two shared a short and quite salty kiss, but it was perfect nonetheless. Their little moment was interrupted by the arrival of Suzue's car.

"Let's go home," Daisuke said softly, opening the passenger door for her. She nodded and got inside with his help. He could tell HEUSC to send his AC Cobra back home by itself later.

As he got on the driver's seat and grabbed Suzue's hand he swore to himself that he will make up to Suzue every single day for hurting her like this. At least his stupid plan had somewhat worked, the two had confessed their feelings towards one another.

*********

Hey Daisuzu gang! I hope you liked this 💕

Has any of you read or watched Jane Eyre? This was kinda inspired by one of my favorite scenes hahaha 👀😁

Again, feel free to ignore this and tell me if you don't want to be included in the tags 🙂

@daisuzuship @innovativestruggles @narcopharmacist @unholysoggytea @riaymei @ieatcrumbs @cow-goes-oof @matchabucks @bluegleeful @levi-is-heicho @kakooshi @kokorokai @darknessrxse @fluffyyagiza @geniusmeemee @sungmnnnn @koalarin @alstroemerie @petiamaximoff38 @hellohellokookie @kannra21 @milcyuw

#daisuzu #daisuzue #fanfic #fkbul #fugou keiji suzue #fugou keiji daisuke #fugou keiji balance: unlimited #angst #is it really angst if it solves right away?#plans don't going as planned #love confessions

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theabominableblogger · 4 years

Text

Rewatching “Fright Night” (the 1985 version)

No I ain’t watching the remake with David Tennant. ‘Cause I said so.

*does Borat impression while loading the movie on Amazon Prime*

“Sit here beside me on the veranda.” Is this the... TV show scene? The show with Roddy McDowall?

SCARE CHOOORD!

“So... luminescent.” *laughs*

Those were some... horrible kissing noises

I like the out of context implication that as soon as the woman asks the dude to lay on her chest, Peter Vincent’s like “NONE IN THIS HOUSE!”

“IF SHE BREATHES...”

What idiot puts their smelly ass soccer cleats on their headboard?

“We’ve been going together almost a year, and all I ever hear is ‘Charley, stop it.’“ Well then maybe that’s a you problem

Also what the hell is that map thing next to Amy?

“Let’s get into bed.” *bug eyes*

Amy, that is not the look of someone who is ready to have sex.

“It says right here that the divorce rate is 76% higher among couples who don’t argue before marriage.” Shut up, Mom.

“Thank you [Amy] for helping Charley with his homework.” ...I was gonna make a sex joke here but nah.

Oh I hate Charley’s friend in his movie.

Charley’s car, while super nice, looks like a sunburnt cow

“My luck. He’s [the neighbor] probably gay.” AAAAAHHH THEY EVEN SAID IT!

I really Charley to slap Teach [Ed] at some point but I know it’s never gonna happen.

For a moment, I thought that the carpenter dude partner was gonna be like Kenny from “The War at Home” but nah. He probably just uses his teeth a lot.

*silently jamming to the background synth music*

*Charley spots a woman removes her bra in the window* What was this rated again?

AN: It’s rated R

*yells when Jerry looks over to see Charley through the window*

*Shot of Jerry’s hand pulling down the window blind* That... is a lady hand.

AN: They were actually extensions that Chris wore and he helped apply them himself so that he could just rip them off after a day of shooting

*Charley’s mom ruins Charley’s cover* DAMN IT MOM

This movie is basically “Who Cried Wolf” but with vampires?

“I’m his roommate Billy Cole.” Can you believe just that the fact that this movie was made in the mid 80s when the AIDS crisis in the US was getting ready to happen and director Tom Holland and the screenwriter went “YES they’re gonna be GAY and THAT’S FINAL”

“You actually saw the body, Charley?” Uh doesn’t that tone raise any suspicion from the detective STANDING NEXT TO HIM?

*snorts in hilarity when Billy jokingly does the sign of the cross*

Charley, I would not trust anything Teach tries to tell you.

AND OF COURSE CHARLEY’S MOM INVITED JERRY OVER

OMINOUS SYNTH CHORD

My God, Chris Sarandon...

What’s with the celery?

Charley’s mom is the most oblivious character in this whole movie, I swear

FISH EYE LENS

I forget, do we ever see Jerry in vampire bat form or do we just see him as Chris Sarandon with fangs the entire movie?

Why yes, Charley, use your tiny crucifix.

Doesn’t the whole “enter with permission” count with bedrooms too or just the house in general? If it counted with bedrooms, couldn’t Charley just put up a sign on his door that said “NO ADMISSION WITHOUT PERMISSION” and that would keep Jerry out?

Jerry is the most casual vampire I’ve seen so far. Someone would just throw a chair at him and he’ll just No-Sell it like “Listen... I was just saying...”

There’s got to be a logical way to explain this Christmas thing.

We just need a vampire that’s like Catherine O’Hara from “Schitt’s Creek”

I love how Charley’s like 80% out the window and yet he can still reach for an entire mug of pencils

NO WAIT WE SEE HIS [Jerry’s] VAMPIRE FACE NEVERMIND

Valium?!?

Christopher Lee!

THAT FRAMING [of Billy kneeling directly in front of Jerry’s legs] ISN’T OBVIOUS AT ALL TOM HOLLAND

The logic for this movie is something else. Charley sees someone on TV perform a vampire killing ON A TV SHOW and thinks “YES I’m going to ask him to help me with this vampire situation!”

This is like asking Drew Carey if he can assist in a vampire hunting

*imitates Peter Vincent shooing Charley away*

*snorts at Teach and Amy walking in on Charley setting holy stuff ALL OVER HIS HOUSE*

Also I absolutely forgot about the weird side plot with Amy being an incarnation of a past love. What is it with this and Bram Stoker’s Dracula going this route?

Man, Roddy McDowall is just a masterclass in classical acting. You can tell the different style between him and the other actors.

There’s a bust of Klaus Kinski’s Nosferatu in the glass box!

AN: *in best Janet from ‘The Good Place’ impression* Fun fact, Klaus Kinski was actually an asshole

I like the red and black plaid night coat

God, all those clocks going off at once reminds me of the scene in Pinocchio. That would give me so much anxiety in real life.

WHO TOSSED JERRY THE APPLE?!?

OH AND THEY [Jerry and Billy] WALK OFF TOGETHER OF COURSE

*imitates Peter Vincent saying “Good evening good evening”*

*going through AO3′s Fright Night 1985 tag as Peter explains what he’s doing* Wow there’s four pages. I might have to bookmark some of these.

Ohhhh kay, nevermind on half of these. Not into that. Nope nope nope.

I forget, is Billy also a vampire? Or is he like some ghoul? Werewolf?

...Interspecies romance?

For a fact, I know that if CinemaSins covers this movie, they would award Jerry the “eating an apple because he’s an asshole” sin and I would laugh

Oh he’s [Jerry] gonna go for the hand kiss, isn’t he?

OH GOD DAMMIT

*has to still register it*

Wait, did Jerry hold the bottle up in front of the fire in case there was actually holy water? Would heating it up counteract the holy water inside?

WAIT DOESN’T PETER CATCH JERRY’S LACK OF REFLECTION IN THE MIRROR AS THEY LEAVE?

How did they do that? Did they just... comp Chris Sarandon out or did they have him tuck out of frame but still say his lines?

AN: Tom Holland originally goofed up the shot I guess but they ran with it

JERRY IS BI HEADCANON CONFIRMED

WAIT HE FOUND THE MIRROR SHARDS

The overhead tracking shot following Ed in the alleyway is actually pretty good. And the way it slides to a normal shot is great.

Oh they do the creepy Dracula fog!

Wait, this movie came out the same year as Nightmare on Elm Street 2. Dang.

And that movie also had a weird homoerotic tone to it.

You know what, the way Jerry offers Ed salvation only to attack him was actually pretty solid. Just good acting from both of them. I was sold.

WAIT IT’S THE CLUB SCENE!

*Peter presses a cross to Ed’s forehead* Great prosthetic too, holy crap!

*jams out to the song playing at the club*

Why do Jerry’s dance clothes look like either my pajamas or really lame exercise clothes?

God, it’s [Jerry pacing back and forth watching Amy] like a cat stalking a bird holy crap

NOOOO I DON’T NEED TO WATCH THIS SHE’S LIKE SIXTEEEEENNNN

*jaw drops when Jerry runs his hand up Amy’s leg* NOOOOOO

Not gonna lie, this song almost sounded like a remix of the Nightmare on Elm Street theme

NOOOOOOOO STOOOOOPPPP CEASE DESIST

Amy’s hair just gets wilder and wilder during this dance sequence

STOOOOOOPPPP

Quick, Charley, start a fight! Just... punch someone! Commotion!

*just yells when Jerry steals a kiss from Amy*

*Amy wakes up in a white dress in Jerry’s house* NOPE

God and he [Jerry] took off his shirt too just *hides face in hands*

*covers mouth with hand in attempt not to say anything*

*Jerry’s dragging finger scrapes off wood on the banister* Oh that’s just mean

*Jerry drapes his arms over the back of Billy’s shoulders* HMM

They would be that duo who would pick up a phone and take turns to go “...surprise, Sidney...”

*A wolf walks out of Mrs. Brewster’s room* WHAAAAATTT?!?

Dang they really just tossed a plushie wolf off the stairs

WAIT the guy that did the VFX for this movie also did “Ghostbusters” if I remember correctly

AN: Yes

They are just... really dragging out Ed’s death scene

That kinda exasperated look Peter gives the smoking house is great

Wait is Billy a vampire too? Zombie? What is he?

I really just want Charley to reach out and just slightly poke dying Billy in the chest so that he crumbles backwards. That would have been hilarious.

How long is Amy’s hair?

HE [Jerry] DOES TURN INTO A BAT!

Real plot twist would be that the bat bite also starts turning Charley into a vampire so Peter would have to kill three birds with one stone (heal Charley and Amy and kill Jerry)

Boss move: Peter closing the coffin in front of Jerry

And it ends with the same shot as the opening!

“Oh, you’re so cool, Brewster.” So is Ed alive?

#fright night #fright night 1985 #chris sarandon #roddy mcdowall #peter vincent #jerry dandridge #the blogger reacts #q post

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nanoland · 3 years

Text

am writing hellblazer fic asfdfsfff

title: The Cave

fandom: Hellblazer

characters: John Constantine, Chas Chandler, the First of the Fallen

blurb: John gets lost in a cave.

warnings: Depression, covid19, demons getting themselves Extremely murdered.

It was when the death toll had crested 100,000 that he’d snapped and made his way to Number 10 Downing Street with murder in his eyes and a briefcase full of every cursed artefact he owned.

“What are you gonna do, eh?” bellowed Chas, who’d been following behind him in his cab for the last half mile. He’d already tried to physically drag John into it and had received a bite on the hand for his trouble. “Chuck ‘em through the windows? That’s bulletproof glass, John! Fuck’s sake! Be reasonable!”

“Stop sodding shouting!” John shouted over his shoulder, wiping rain off his face. “You’ll spread sodding germs!”

“John, I already had it. Four months ago, remember?”

“You can have it more than once! Christ, does nobody in this city read the papers but me?”

It was fair to say that John wasn’t at his best. In his defence, he’d spent the last year sitting inside his tiny, poorly-ventilated, roach-ridden flat, vividly imagining what a respiratory virus would do to lungs that had suffered over forty years of heavy smoking, two run-ins with cancer, and the actual devil sticking his actual great big grubby clawed hand in ‘em. No fucking thank you.

Chas sighed heavily and climbed out of the cab again, slamming the door as he did. He splashed through a dozen puddles before coming to stand in John’s path, arms folded. “Listen, Conjob. I love you. Even when you’re a complete prick, which is most of the time. And I know you can do amazing things. But mate, hear me out; you cannot assassinate the British Prime Minister.”

“Someone bloody has to!” John Constantine, greatest wizard of his age, screamed at the top of his wretched, ragged, Satan-besmirched lungs.

Eventually, Chas managed to calm him down and get him home for a cup of tea.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” John grunted as his socks dried in front of the heater and the rational parts of his mind re-exerted themselves.

“S’alright.”

“How’s the bite?”

“Didn’t pierce the skin. John, you need a break. A holiday. You need to get out of town for a few weeks. Go breathe fresh country air, do some weird mystical shit with a goat, whatever it is that sorts your head out these days. But you can’t carry on like this, mate. I haven’t seen you this miserable in years.”

He handed John one of Renee’s strawberry-patterned towels. Dragging it across his face, John grunted, “Holiday? At a time like this?”

“Why not? Makes as much sense as any other time.”

“What if you come down with it again? Or Geraldine? Or Renee?”

“John,” said Chas, gently, laying a hand on his shoulder. “You already tried to cure me with magic. It didn’t work. At all. Just wasted a lot of chicken blood and Renee’s best spoons. Get this in your skull: there’s nothing you can do. Alright? I know you hate that, but it’s the truth.”

John swallowed thickly. “Yeah. Yeah. Alright.”

So he went home to his tiny flat, stuffed fresh socks and his toothbrush into a backpack, booby-trapped his front door, and fled London in the dead of night, feeling like one of those gits in Boccaccio’s Decameron.

“It’s called glamping.”

“Some new wizardy stuff, I’m guessing?”

Chas’s voice over the phone was distracted, like he was half-watching the telly. John was relieved; he’d wanted to hear another human speak but wasn’t feeling up to a proper conversation demanding his usual levels of sparkling charisma and staggering wit. Not right now. Not without weed, and he’d not thought to bring any.

Nestling deeper into his teak folding chair and drawing a thick woven blanket up over his knees, John said, “Nah. Not buggering about with any of that old guff until I’m back in town. Promised myself.”

“Right.”

“Don’t sound so sceptical, you git. I’ve done it before.”

“Mm-hmm. What’s your record? The longest you’ve ever gone without doing anything mystical and creepy?”

“‘Bout… hmm. Three days.”

“You’re coming up on the tail end of that right about now.”

“I know. Chas, on my word, I am going to make it to Sunday without so much as sniffing around a graveyard or wanking off a werewolf. I am on holiday.”

“Alright, alright, if you say so. Good for you, mate. So what’s this ‘glamping’ business, then?”

“It’s camping. But posh. I’m sitting up here atop a hill in Yorkshire with a tent the size of a cathedral and me chic woodburning stove and me box of white wine and feeling like the yuppiest old cunt who ever drew breath.”

“Sounds horrible.”

“It does, doesn’t it? That’s why I chose it over a nice comfy bed and breakfast. Figured I’d wake up with a cow shitting on my head and could use that as an excuse to come home early. Actually, though… it’s alright. Quiet. There’s a river at the bottom of the hill where these giggling honeymooners like to have a morning bonk but it’s far enough away that I can’t hear them unless they’re really having fun. And the weather’s been alright. It’s all surprisingly decent.”

“And you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“Yep.”

“Hmph. I should have come with you. You get all weird and introspective when you’re left alone for more than a couple days.”

“I’m not alone. There’re birds. Squirrels. A few ghosts hanging out by the toilets.”

“John.”

“Ain’t gonna talk to ‘em! Mind you, one did give me a wink when I was zipping up. How’s everything back home?”

“Er – look, I won’t lie, it’s shit. It’s all shit. But it’s not any more shit than it was when you left three days ago. Not any worse, not any better, yeah?”

“Right.”

(Stupid to be disappointed. Stupid that a part of him had secretly believed that as soon as he abandoned the sinking ship that was London, things would miraculously get better for everyone, even as another part of him, on the opposite side of his brain, had been convinced – maybe even hoped – that the moment he was gone, the entire city would descend into screaming anarchy, at which he could point and laugh from a safe distance.)

“Listen, John, I’ve gotta go. Renee needs groceries. Be careful, please?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Don’t fuck about with any occult bollocks. Don’t go foraging for brain-melting mushrooms. Don’t do anything. Just stay in your tent and read your dirty books, yeah?”

“Heard and understood, Mum.”

“Bastard.”

“Love you.”

“Yeah, you too.”

John dropped his phone onto the grass and stared up at the sky. A herd of thin grey clouds drifted past. Off in the distance, he could just make out the shape of a barn – or was it a church? Either way, there were sheep next to it.

A squirrel scurried down a nearby tree trunk and then up another one.

Yawning, he scratched his chin. (Getting scruffy. Hadn’t shaved in two days now.)

“Should prob’ly do some reading,” he mumbled to no one.

A few minutes passed.

He dangled his head back behind his seat and sang quietly: “First produced my pistol… then produced my rapier… said ‘stand and deliver’, for he were a bold deceiver… mush a-ring dum-a do dum-a da…”

Heaving a sigh, he stood up and walked around his tent to dispel pins and needles, then went inside to read his book.

“I am not bored,” he muttered fiercely, staring down at pages that might as well have been blank.

“Oh, but you are, John.”

England’s greatest wizard jumped up, wielding his novel as though it were a club, and dealt a devastating blow to empty air while screaming something along the lines of, “Raargh die die die!”

Then he waited for a moment to see if the voice returned. Tried to determine whether he could sense anything. Nope. Admittedly, that didn’t mean much these days. Lots of beasties and bastards out there had learned how to hide from him.

“Either I’m hallucinating or someone’s pissing me about,” he concluded, placing his hands on his hips. “Chas, mate, I’m sure you would agree that either constitutes a fine reason to leave this fucking tent.”

And leave he did.

He went caving.

The BBC had published an article a couple years back calling the UK’s cave systems its ‘last true wilderness’. He and Chas had had a good long laugh over that, Chas suggesting that John take the caver quoted on an expedition to Faerie or maybe direct him toward any of the two hundred portals to Hell between Plymouth and the Orkney Islands.

But the article had stuck with him. Perhaps it was the obvious love the caver had for his hobby, the clean and simple joy he got out of crawling around in dark, damp holes. John was always drawn to people like that, and not just because it sounded smutty.

(Imagine if he’d loved something clean and simple; gotten into bird-watching or carpentry instead of magic. Would have saved him a lot of hassle.)

Idly, one evening, he’d poked around on the internet – now that, that really was the last true wilderness – until he’d found a map listing all the cave systems in the UK, along with a guide to which were popular, which were dangerous, which were good for a family holiday, and yes (inevitably), which had been the scenes of grisly accidents.

(Wikipedia said that historically there’d been only 136 fatalities ‘associated with recreational caving’ in the UK and that, statistically, it wasn’t a particularly dangerous hobby. Hadn’t stopped him from having vivid dreams about bodies wedged in tiny tunnels miles below ground, cooling and rotting and bloating, except how could they bloat when there simply wasn’t enough room, what happened when…

Anyway, Chas had eventually rescued him from his maudlin musings and dragged him to the pub.)

And while his memory was a messy old thing, especially these days, that just happened to be the sort of useless information that tended to hang around in his head for years, like the words to every song in Sweeney Todd or the rituals required for an exorcism spell that didn’t actually work, doing nothing but taking up space.

There was a cave only a few miles from the campsite.

When he arrived, he beheld a clumsily painted sign nailed to an oak tree next to the entrance:

CLOSED TO THE PUBLIC UNTIL SPRING

NO TRESPASSERS

HAZARDOUS! ENTER AT OWN RISK

He lingered at the cave’s mouth. Though it was big enough for him to stand up in, it made for an unassuming sight. Squirrels played in the old oak with three sets of lovers’ initials carved into it that stood at its left and the pathway leading up to it was strewn with weeds and wildflowers.

“Am I really this stupid?” he pondered aloud, before correcting himself: “Am I really this bored?”

After five minutes’ internal debate, he decided that yes, he was.

He took a step towards the narrow crevice, before stopping himself. No. This was ridiculous. What was he thinking? Shaking his head, he turned and walked away.

Three hours later he was back, now with a good pair of leather boots (stolen from an arsehole in a nearby village), a Power Rangers backpack (given to him by a kid in exchange for a cigarette and some magic tricks), a cheap flashlight, two cans of lager, and a packet of crisps (paid for with the last of his cash).

“Off we go, then,” he said, and marched into the dark.

Like a well-fed leopard on a low-hanging branch, the First of the Fallen lounged across his throne of vertebrae, long black hair dribbling off his broad shoulders and pooling on the ground. Though he was wide awake, his eyes were closed. This, combined with the corpses of three supplicants dangling from nearby steel hooks, would hopefully discourage anyone from bothering him for the next few hours.

“My liege?”

Shit.

He kept still. Said nothing. Perhaps they would go away.

“Um… my liege, I’m terribly, monumentally sorry to disturb you, but…”

With a wave of his claw, the messenger exploded into red mist.

When, ten minutes later, a second messenger summoned up the courage to approach him, he realized that it must be very serious indeed.

“You have five seconds,” he said cordially, holding them up by the neck.

“Con… constantine!” they croaked.

Brightening, the First set them down. “Indeed? What’s the little bastard up to this time, eh?”

“Nothing, my liege. He’s dead.”

A few minutes later, a fourth corpse hung from a hook and the throne of Hell was empty.

To the First of the Fallen, caves were still a novelty.

Confined spaces, in general, were still a novelty.

At 13.6 billion years, he was only slightly younger than the universe. While solid planets had come into existence around the same time, he’d not actually visited one until the emergence of homo sapiens and his subsequent quarrel and falling-out with God – a mere 300,000 years ago.

Cast from Heaven, naked and freezing cold, he’d stumbled into a rocky cranny by the shoreline and wedged himself between its slimy walls. That was his earliest memory of ever being ‘indoors’. No surprise, then, that he avoided such places when he could. He had built no castles in Hell; his throne sat atop a mountain beneath an endless red-gold sky.

But right now, it wasn’t the cave that had his attention, dark and chilly and, yes, slimy as it was.

“Stupid turd,” he grumbled, glowering at the corpse. “Ow!”

He’d bumped his head on the cave ceiling again. It was too low for the average human to stand upright, much less an eight-foot primordial being.

Constantine stared at him, blue eyes blank and glassy. His body was unmarred save for the dent in the left side of his scalp, which had stopped leaking some time ago. As far as the First could tell, his nemesis had simply tripped and fallen onto an unfortunately positioned, unfortunately sharp rock.

The First spat on his tie and snarled, “Pathetic! What the fuck are you even doing here, eh? And – God’s hairy bollocks, when did you last bathe?”

His soul was still dangling off him, like drool from a dog’s mouth. Heaven, obviously, had no interest in him and the First hadn’t yet authorised his admission into Hell.

Because he wasn’t ready, dammit.

He’d not been expecting to welcome John home for at least another thirty years.

“Always have to make it difficult, don’t you?”

When he reached down to take hold of the soul – such a grubby, tattered thing – it bit, blazing gold for a sliver of an instant before he snatched his hand back. Stuck his index finger in his mouth until the sting abated. Fumed.

He tried again, grasping it firmly, as one might a snake. It thrashed. He gave it a disciplinary shake before opening Constantine’s mouth with a claw and forcing it down his gullet.

Coming back to life was never enjoyable. Constantine spasmed and gurgled, legs and arms contorting as pink foam gathered at his lips. The First, bored, sat down beside him, reclining against the cave wall with one knee crooked. Surveyed their surroundings. The ground was – oh dear – littered with crisp crumbs, an empty foil packet, two cans, and dozens of cigarette butts. How foul.

“Disaster in your wake, as ever,” he commented, tutting.

Constantine groaned, eyelashes fluttering.

Belatedly realizing that he wouldn’t be able to see in this subterranean gloom, and very much wanting to afflict him with the identity of his saviour, the First snapped his fingers. A dozen lit candles appeared across the cavern, hovering ghost-like in mid-air.

“Urgh… fffu… whu… oh, Christ Almighty.”

Watching him sit up, the First assumed a lordly expression, tilting his head. “And what do you have to say for yourself?”

Unhealthily pale skin and facial muscles stretched and twisted to an indeterminable end.

Then John Constantine set his jaw.

Growled: “I’m on holiday, you bellend.”

And passed out.

He awoke to the smell of slightly burnt waffles.

Better than burnt flesh, which was what he’d anticipated after His Infernal Bloody Majesty had popped in for a fag and a chat. Certainly better than sulphur.

“For you,” the First of the Fallen purred.

A white plate – averagely-sized but rendered absurdly dainty by the dimensions of the clawed fingers holding it – was set down in front of him.

He frowned at its golden-brown contents. “The catch?”

“No catch. I was peckish. I imagine you are, too.”

“Come on. Not in the mood. Did you piss on ‘em? Did you mix a baby’s blood into the batter?”

“Honestly, John.”

Scratching his chin, he reviewed the facts. Still in the same sodding cave, albeit far better illuminated than the last time he’d been conscious. Alive, but with that unmistakable stiffness that he’d come to associate with having recently been dead. Cold. Irritable.

Hungry.

His archenemy’s smug smile was almost enough to make him spit the first bite back out. Instinct borne from months of extreme poverty forced him to swallow instead.

“Tastes like shit,” he remarked, wiping his lips. “But I suppose you usually have minions to prepare food for you. Where’s the syrup?”

A regal sigh, before a bottle appeared beside the plate. He emptied a third of it and spent the next few minutes in delicious, sticky silence.

There were, as ever, consequences to allowing the First of the Fallen centre stage. The moment the big smelly git realised that John really wasn’t in the mood for banter, he waved a hand and conjured up a thin hardback with Into the Underworld: The Amateur’s Guide to Caving in Britain on the front.

As John rolled his eyes and stuffed another waffle into his mouth, the First cleared his throat and read: “‘According to the National Speleological Society, the minimum number of people required to safely embark on a recreational caving expedition is four – at least one of whom should have prior caving experience.’ Did you know that, John?”

John chewed sullenly.

“I did. I’d wager that most people do. At least, I’d wager that most people know that going caving in groups smaller than two – going caving alone – is wildly inadvisable. Caves are dangerous, John.”

Where were his cigarettes? Had the bastard nicked them?

“And… let’s see – ah! Here we are. ‘There is a great deal of commercial equipment available to a first-time caver, some of which is necessary, some of which is not. Two items, however, that are absolutely non-negotiable are a helmet and a helmet-mounted light.’ Do you have either of those, John?”

“Do I criticise your fucking hobbies?” he exploded, knowing better, knowing it would only encourage him. Sugary crumbs flew everywhere.

“You do, in fact. Often. And quite understandably. My favourite hobby is murdering your friends, after all.”

John threw the plate at his head.

He’d had a good sense of direction even before he’d learned how to see psychic residue coating streets and walls, left behind by previous travellers. Always scurrying around in places no kid should; subways, sewers, dirty basements, any haunted house his greedy little eye fell upon.

When he’d reached sixteen, burgeoning schizophrenia had muddled him up now and then. Occasionally, it’d even left him standing in streets he didn’t recognise with no earthly idea how he’d got there. PTSD had compounded the problem.

Even so, at fifty plus, he didn’t make a habit of getting lost. Meds, practice, and years of experience meant that he could walk from Chas’s house to Saint Paul’s with a blindfold on.

Long story short: This was embarrassing.

“I’m fairly sure we’re going in circles. That stalactite is very familiar.”

And he certainly wasn’t fucking helping.

(The floating candles, following them like ducklings, were. John’s torch had broken when he’d tripped. Still, he didn’t need the First of the Fallen for light. Could conjure it up himself, no bother. It just made sense to avail himself of a primordial being’s infinite magical resources before dipping into his own, far more limited stockpile.)

“Do you know the way out?” John asked, not breaking his stride.

“I do.”

“Will you tell me where it is?”

“I will not.”

“Then shut up.”

In his defence, John hadn’t thought the cave was big enough to get lost in. It hadn’t looked it from the outside.

But he’d wandered, then crawled, down at least a mile of twisting, increasingly narrow tunnels before getting himself killed. He’d kept meaning to stop; said to himself five times, ‘Okay, Conjob, this is getting stupid, let’s trot our arse back to civilisation’. Then he would notice another crevice wide enough for him to squeeze into.

“Curious place for a holiday,” the First of the Fallen commented after bravely keeping his tongue still for an unprecedented five minutes.

“Curious times we’re living in, innit?”

He hummed in agreement. “Are you really not here for any particular reason? Not – I don’t know – trying to find a missing child abducted by the fae? Searching for a wicked spirit who’s been cursing the local shepherds? Treasure-hunting, perhaps?”

“No.”

“You’re just here.”

“Yep.”

“Why?”

“I told you. I’m on holiday. Taking a nice long break.”

“John. We’ve known one another for some time. I am familiar with the ways in which you ‘take a break’. You either go to the pub or you go to several pubs. Attempting to reconnect with nature is hardly your style.”

“Being oblivious to current events – especially shit ones – is hardly your style. Been too busy shaving your chunky arse to pick up a newspaper lately?”

“Print is dying. Besides, you try managing an entire dimension. See how much spare time it leaves you. Honestly, I’m run off my feet most days.”

“So quit.”

“Don’t be silly. What else would I do?”

“I dunno. Could be a camgirl. You’ve got the legs for it.”

“Stop trying to change the subject. Why aren’t you at home?”

John stopped walking and spun to face him. “There’s a plague, you gormless, oblivious prick. I can’t go to the pub. I can’t meet up with me mates. I can’t visit people’s homes to perform exorcisms. I can’t do anything but sit indoors, on my own, for months on end, just watching everything get worse, and that… and that’s not an option. Not for me. I crack too easy. So I got out. Before I killed someone. Now, for the last time, shut up and let me concentrate.”

He bent down to tug off his shoes and socks.

Telepathic magic tended to work best when you were naked. But sod that. Not with the First of the Fuckheads watching. Waffles or no waffles, he did not deserve a treat.

“Oh, is this what we’re doing now? Marvellous! I do love watching your quaint party tricks,” he oozed with a mocking round of applause as John dropped to his knees.

Ignore him.

Taking a deep breath, John let his awareness expand.

It was hard, with the First standing right there. His presence was staggeringly heavy, weighing on the ley lines like an iron ball on a lace hammock. And so alien; elements found nowhere on Earth, bones and muscles formed before Earth had been a glint in God’s eye.

John sneered into the darkness. Piss on that. On him. This was child’s play. Buggered as his brain might be, John Constantine wasn’t going to falter at the sound, scent, or sensation of a mean-spirited old cosmic relic.

Okay, let’s see what we’ve got.

Seven years ago, three people came this way. A family. A woman; her sister; her daughter. They were having fun. The sisters had done this before; the daughter had been begging to come along for years. Afterwards, they were going for pizza. It was a good day.

Two years ago, four people came this way. All friends from work. Well – ‘friends’. One was the company CEO, the other three wanted promotions. Everyone but the boss was miserable. One was arachnophobic.

Eight months ago, a… sheep? Yeah. A sheep. Barely more than a lamb. It was lost. There was a storm and it came down here looking for shelter. Went too deep. By the time the shepherd found it, it was half-starved.

“John? What are you-…”

Ignore him.

Ten years ago, another family. Fifty years ago, a frightened child running from a monstrous father. And others – a hundred others – a thousand. The cave had a rich and storied history. Almost against his will and entirely against his better judgement, John followed its threads through the rock layers, chasing faded ghosts, brushing up against magic so ancient it had fossilised.

“John!”

Ignore him. Ignore him. Ignore-

His head was ringing. His blood was on fire.

Fuck, I’ve gone too far, too bloody deep, fuck, oh fuck.

“Constantine! Heed me!”

His eyes snapped open.

“Ah,” he said.

“Precisely,” said the First of the Fallen, who was holding him up by his coat collar like a jizz rag in need of a bin.

The cave had changed.

It was brighter, thanks to a small, well-constructed fire in its centre.

The walls were covered in paintings. Deer. Hogs. Great red and brown bulls.

A woman sat in the corner, wrapped in furs, adding detail to what might have been a fox. She didn’t seem to have noticed them.

“Did you mean to do that?” the First of the Fallen queried.

“In thirty thousand years, a monk will come down here and find them. He’ll be horrified, believing that they’re the work of… well, me. So he’ll leave and return with water in buckets and scrubbing brushes. As he lies on his deathbed, he will be firmly under the impression that this great good deed will grant him entrance into Paradise.”

The First of the Fallen paused for effect, then added, “Alas, he will be mistaken.”

Without looking away from her work, the woman spoke several words in a language miles removed from any contemporary tongue John had ever heard.

“The young lady says she doesn’t mind spirits wandering her caves, but requests that we don’t chatter while she’s trying to concentrate.”

Crouching next to freshly-etched cow and her calf, feeling uncharacteristically dazzled, John said, “Ask her if I can take a picture. Ask her!”

“Homo neanderthalensis, John. She won’t have the faintest idea what you mean.”

Rolling his eyes, he fished his phone out of his trenchcoat pocket and waved it at her. When she deliberately ignored him, he shrugged and took the shot.

The flash won her attention. She stood – revealing a faded seashell necklace and a long, curving scar across her left thigh – and approached them, limping slightly. John held out the phone to show her the picture and, after a resoundingly unimpressed inspection, she uttered a terse sentence.

“She’s unsure why the sickly-looking spirit thinks shrinking her beasts in any way improves them,” said the First of the Fallen.

The woman raised her head (hard to tell how old she was; younger than him, definitely) and looked John in the eye, squinting. Another few sentences followed, some of which sounded like questions.

Sarcastic questions, unless he was mistaken.

“She asks if you shrink them because large beasts frighten you. She speculates that, if the only beasts you can bear to approach are scrawny ones, it’s no wonder that you yourself are such a measly creature. She says that she too was scared of bulls when she was a child, but that her mother taught her not to be. She wonders why your mother failed you in this regard. Should I tell her your mother died in childbirth, John?”

“Stick your head up your own arse and choke. But ask her name first.”

Tossing back his thick black hair, he scoffed. “Why? What does it matter? She’s a primitive, doomed creature and she’s not even really here. This is just one of the cave’s memories.”

“Christ – are you jealous I’m talking to her more than I’m talking to you? Because that’s fucking inane. This is a one-in-a-lifetime type deal. I’ve never spoken to a legit bloody Neanderthal. I speak to you all the blasted time, more’s the pity.”

Yellow eyes narrowed. “Maybe I’ll kill her.”

John laughed. “You said it, squire; she’s a memory. You can’t kill her. She’s long dead. Now shut up.”

He wasn’t able to learn her name. Still, via pantomime and pointing, he eventually managed to convey his desire to find a way out of the cave – or so, at least, it seemed.

She took a bundle of sticks from beside her fire, lit them, and walked towards the nearest inky-black tunnel.

“See?” he said to the First of the Fallen as they followed her. “Politeness. All it takes.”

“Don’t act like you have any real idea what’s going on. She could be leading you straight into a trap. You’re aware, I’m sure, that archaeologists generally agree Neanderthals practised cannibalism? Ten muscular relatives might be waiting right around the corner with clubs and a cooking pot.”

“For fuck’s sake – I have literally stood and watched you slouching on that colossally pathetic bone throne of yours and nibbling the edge of someone’s pelvis like it was a turkey drumstick. Loathsome bloody hypocrite.”

“That doesn’t remotely count as cannibalism, John. That was a human pelvis. I’m not a human. I’m the prototype. A species of one. Which, I suppose, means it’s technically impossible for me to commit cannibalism. Hmm. What an interesting philosophical notion.”

Walking a short way ahead, bare feet soundless against the rock, their new self-appointed guide said something.

“What was that?” John whispered.

“‘If you must burden my ears by bickering like children, you could at least do it in a language I can understand’. Then she called us a rude word.”

Then the First of the Fallen spoke several sentences in his usual bored, drawling cadence and, to John’s surprise, she laughed.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” the First of the Fallen said, innocently.

“I’m serious, bastard. What’re you saying to her?”

“Nothing important, John, really.”

More than once after that, he caught her glancing back at them and snickering.

The artist and the twisting stone galleries through which she led them – it couldn’t possibly have all been hers; the monk had destroyed the work of generations – were insufficient to keep John’s mind from straying back to important matters.

“Hey. Ponce. What’ve you done with my cigarettes?”

The First of the Fallen had plucked them from his trenchcoat pocket while he was unconscious. When it came to his sorcerer, he’d learned, you always wanted a bargaining chip to hand.

“We’re in the company of one whose lungs are as yet unsullied by the Industrial Revolution, Constantine. Are you really planning on exposing her to second-hand smoke?”

It was a prospect John, it seemed, hadn’t even considered. Obviously angry with himself for that (oh John), he snapped, “No! I was – it’s – look, she can’t get lung cancer, can she? She’s dead. Doesn’t matter what she breathes in now.”

Smothering a smile, the First of the Fallen said, “Oh? So the fact that she won’t actually perish upon inhaling your fumes is all that matters, is it? Never mind her comfort or dignity, I suppose; as long as you don’t have to clean up another corpse.”

Nostrils flared. Fists clenched. Blue eyes gleamed with something hotter and even more violent than divine wrath.

“Like you give a shit about her,” John growled.

So much in this miserable world reminds me of Heaven. The grass. The sky. The beauty. You alone remind me of the time before Heaven; that bizarre, unpredictable time when there were no rules, no beauty, only feelings, only sudden bursts of light, fierce and erratic, cutting through the void.

“Or anyone,” John continued, gathering steam. Nicotine withdrawal, the First of the Fallen suspected, was kicking in. “Remind me, what was that you said the day we met? ‘To be mortal is to be stupid, proud, conceited – and ultimately pathetic’. You showed your hand, idiot; you loathe us all. Ergo, any taunts that depend on you concealing that are a total bust. Forget about the ciggies. If they’ve been anywhere near you, I don’t want ‘em.”

For years, the First of the Fallen had secretly hoped John had forgotten his, in hindsight, ill-considered words.

(He’d meant every one of them, but at the time he’d been trying to come off as a Gentleman Devil, the quintessential Man of Wealth and Taste, affable and urbane, not a bitter, angry old monster.)

Should have known better. John was so foolishly protective when it came to humanity as an abstract concept, even while his attitude towards actual humans tended to be far more variable. He’d probably been furiously gnawing on that phrase – ‘ultimately pathetic’ – like a dog with a bone for thirty years.

Thirty years.

Was that really all the time they’d known one another? John Constantine, his Constantine, He Who Was Most Hated… a mere thirty year acquaintance?

“What’re you laughing at?”

“Heh. Nothing, John. Reminiscing, that’s all.”

“About what? Poor old Brendan?”

Brendan, Brendan. Who -? Oh yes. John’s friend. The one who’d sold his soul. The catalyst, in fact, for their meeting. Pity the bastard was in Heaven; he’d have liked to thank him.

“You see these?” said the artist, holding up her torch to illuminate a painted wolf pack. “My grandfather did these.”

“What’s she saying?” John demanded.

As the First of the Fallen translated, he gazed dispassionately at her.

The first time he’d encountered a human, they’d looked much the same. Small. Unremarkable. Clad in skins and hardened from a life exposed to this planet’s weather (he personally hated weather and had made sure there was no such thing in Hell).

Mind you, the ones he’d run into while naked and terrified and still injured from being swatted down to Earth like some insect had been much less hospitable. They hadn’t known what he was; only that he was wrong. When he’d tried to approach their campfire, they’d thrown stones at him. Slaying them all hadn’t even occurred to him. Father had said that they were precious and at that stage, he’d still given a toss about His rules. Instead, he’d slunk away.

Catching food wasn’t a problem. He was faster than any buck or bird. It was loneliness, not hunger, that drove him to try again, and again, and again. In time, they grew used to him. Even showed him kindness. They had an extraordinary capacity for that. (For all that it was so often conditional and withdrawn the moment one became too strange or too frightening.)

But he’d never grown used to them. They were, at heart, creatures of community. And he simply wasn’t. He was a species of one. The prototype. He’d always been alone but for God’s company, and adjusting to life as a member of a tribe had proved impossible. Their norms, their traditions, their complicated etiquette – it had all bewildered him, then intimidated him, then irritated him. That, combined with his ageless body and supernatural strength, had driven an inevitable wedge between them, and he’d returned to the wilderness to wander alone.

He considered telling John that story.

(Why not? He’d told him everything else and the idea that his nemesis might have an incomplete view of him was, for some reason, concerning.)

Then he considered John’s likely reaction. The curled lip. The scornful snort. “What, you looking for pity? ‘Boo-hoo, my rotten childhood turned me into a git’? Hah! Jog on, squire.”

No. John’s hatred was a hard-won prize. John’s contempt was to be avoided at all costs.

“You realise most people aren’t allowed down here,” the artist said, glancing his way. She was shorter than John, who himself was slightly shorter than the average man; her eyes were level with the First’s navel. “Only elders and those who’ve earned the right. There are grave penalties awaiting any who sneak in.”

“Really?” he replied, interested only in John’s furrowed brow and silent, aggravated attempts to work out what they were saying.

“Yes. Because this place is important. Sacred. When I was young, I spent years dreaming of being allowed to venture this deep. I don’t know the ways of spirits – but I’ll not pretend it doesn’t rankle that you spend more time studying your sickly friend than your surroundings.”

“You’re still young. Compared to me, everyone is.”

“He doesn’t even seem to like you very much. Why are you travelling with him?”

“I don’t know. Why do urine and semen come out the same hole?”

“‘It’s none of your business’ would have sufficed. Are you always this rude? Is that why the sickly one doesn’t like you?”

“No. No, he dislikes me for other reasons.”

“Well, well, well. Hullo,” came John’s voice, and they both realised that he’d stopped walking.

Turning, the First of the Fallen spied his nemesis standing with his hands in his pockets, studying a man dressed like a thirteenth-century peasant.

“Eh? Where did he come from?” the woman asked.

In quavering tones, the peasant said, “Are you angels?”

The First of the Fallen laughed. “John! He’s asking if-…”

“Just because I can’t speak Neanderthal doesn’t mean I don’t know sodding Middle English. Give me an ounce of credit. I’m only a cocking wizard, after all,” John snapped, before addressing the new arrival: “No. Just travellers.”

The peasant’s shoulders slumped. “Oh. I thought maybe God had sent me angels. I’ve been requesting them for several days.”

John shuddered. “Bad idea. Trust me. You don’t want to mess around with that lot.”

“But I need guidance. Protection.”

“From what?”

Eyes wide, the peasant took his hand and clutched it. “My friend, can’t you see? I am being pursued.”

“By who?”

“By demons.”

(to be continued)

#hellblazer #john constantine #chas chandler #first of the fallen #fanfic #my fic

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likesomekindofcheese · 4 years

Text

We are all fools in love (Queen One-shot for LOC event)

Pairing: Roger Taylor x fem! Reader

Word Count: 2115

Summary: Roger Taylor’s your best friend...but looks like the band may need to give you a little push and you both need to admit the truth. Some good ol’ Friends to Lovers.

A/N: Hello @39-ers��! Here I am- your Secret Santa revealed!!Here is my gift to you for @dtfrogertaylor Level of Concern Event! It was fun to write and it was wonderful to get to know you- I hope you enjoy it!!! Also shout out to my beta @spicyspideyme! for your quick eye and generous input!!

cw: swearing, smoking, bits and hints about sex (but no actual smut), and mentions of fictional violence. Freddie being the matchmaker like he always is in my fics. Matchmake me plz Freddie

“We’re gonna hold hands, but we aren’t together together!” Roger insisted as you walked through the park.

“How come?” you asked.

The autumn breeze chilled you a bit. A couple leaves fell right before your feet. Stepping on them, there was a satisfying crunch that made you smile. A few park workers were taking away the pumpkins for Halloween festivities and replacing them with banners promoting bonfires for November.

“Because I just don’t want you to get lost! This is a bloody huge city! And the crowds are big!” Roger explained, he waved his arms around the place.

The band and you had hit the dry hours. Other than a few workers, you barely saw a soul.

“I think you forgot…I live in this city. Same as you!” you retorted.

Roger shrugged, scratching the back of his head.

“I just want you to be safe!” he cried.

“Well if it makes you feel like I will be safe, I’ll do it” you said.

Pouting slightly, you accepted his large, smooth hand and continued your walk.

Though the other three just keep laughing in the back at you two making little fusses just like that, eyeing each other at the odd comment and mouths tight shut to keep themselves from laughing.

“It’s like they’re married already,” Brian observed, tightening his red scarf.

“I don’t know about the rest of you, but…something has got to got to happen…” John commented.

Freddie waited until you and Roger were far enough away and then turned to the others.

“I’m sick of it! And they are sick of it too! You see it- of all of the sweet glances when the other one isn’t looking! And I’m so fucking sick of hearing Roger keep talking until the cows come home about “how bloody lovely y/n is,” or “y/n did this and it’s amazing! No one’s as smart as y/n!’” he added, lifting his voice up a few pitches to mimic Roger’s.

“Are you lost or what!?” you called behind, looking at the three.

Without another word, Fred led the way quietly for the rest of the walk. But his mind was restless.

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Roger insisted on visiting the vintage shop with you by his side the next day. Not that much had changed in a day, you said. He refused to hear of it.

Opening the door, you were greeted by a retail worker who pointed you to the rack of sale items. There was the smell of old leather and furs already deep in your nose as you noticed a coat from at least the forties.

This is Perfect.

You perused prices, ranging from the extreme to the frugal.

But Fred, knowing you both visited regularly, came in. He stayed away, half hiding behind some blue dresses at least a decade old.

“Doing anything Sunday, Rog?” you asked.

“I’ve got nothing on Sunday, Sundays are always boring!” he complained.

He stared in shocked awe at a garish orange blouse with ruffles on it before moving to the next item.

“Rog, I think Sundays are nice! They’re quiet, peaceful…”

“Ha! You think! It’s too bloody quiet and only the church is open,” he interjected.

Turning your head, you folded your arms crossly.

“Sunday’s are nice, Rog!”

One certain outfit caught your eye when you noticed the mannequin, but checking the price tag you shook your head and let out a small sigh.

“Wanna bet!?” Roger said, offering a hand to you with a smile.

Fred stifled a laughter following the ridiculous little bout. He even bent his legs to hide deeper behind the fifties dresses with starched, crinoline skirts.

“No, no need to bet. There are horror movies that come on Sunday night, I’ll show you! You know how much I love horror movies!” you begged.

Roger’s eyes lit up and he blinked. Then his smile returned rather than his immature pout.

“Really, what channel?”

“Rog, you really have to know. Do you really just go to bars and clubs on Sundays? Just get drunk?”

‘Well, at least they aren’t boring, Y/N!” he argued.

Rolling your eyes, you walked over to where there were pants for women. But you couldn’t help but smile. Roger was an intelligent man. He was just an intelligent man with the instincts of a child sometimes. Secretly it always charmed you.

“Whatever just come over. And don’t get drunk. Not yet,” you said.

Freddie had a deep smile on his lips. He stayed hiding in the shop until you both left. He looked right at the outfit you were eyeing.

This is perfect he thought.

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On Sunday afternoon, there is a red blouse and the nicest pair of pants you had ever seen on your bed, laid out, fresh from the vintage shop.

Your jaw dropped and you held back a small scream at the sight. The shirt you found was a blouse: smooth as silk. The pants fitted you perfectly: lighter colored with a subtle pattern.Walking in front of the mirror, you looked nicer than you ever had before.

Next to where your clothes had been was on a small piece of paper with typewriting on it:

“Thought you’d like it! Please wear tonight! MY gift! XXXX- Rog”

“Well…it’s not too girly and it’s not racy at all…but I better put on a jacket to make it safe.”

Biting your lip, you looked at it in the mirror, examining every inch.

But no. Roger could not have meant it. Not for you at least. You knew there had to be some girl. He would buying lingerie for her. There were always crowds of women after him at parties. He was always calling women up and talking to them.

“There’s just some chick he’s crazy about and he isn’t telling me because he doesn’t want to make it weird…or maybe he’s really into Fred or John or something.”

The thought always made you sad.

“Still, wouldn’t hurt to doll up though, especially if he asked for it…” you thought, feeling that brief glimmer of hope in your belly.

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As Roger sat in his home, reading while smoking his cigarette like a meditation, there was a sudden knock on the door.

“I’m back already!” Fred announced, slightly muffled from the door blocking the way.

When he walked over, Roger could barely breathe a hello when Fred leaned over closely, taking in a large whiff.

“Oh! You’re smoking! I’m dying for one myself- let’s go out!” he announced, his ringer hand grabbing Roger’s arm.

“It’s fine in here, why?”

Freddie flashed his full smile and waved away the apartment entrance. Though at the force Roger was being pulled out it was as if he didn’t have a choice

“Well, darling, you don’t need the landlord on your neck for any reason: and it’s lovely tonight! Moon and stars and all that!” he declared.

They wandered out, talking about everything in between blowing out grey smoke. Though Freddie was changing subjects fast and talking a mile a minute, even for Roger’s standards. But he kept up.

Until he heard her. Y/N’s footsteps and their certain rhythm.

You saw your friends on the side of the block, right outside the flat complex. Finally, you walked up in a light coat, a little odd from the feeling of the outfit.

Oh God, I’ve known both of them for years…why am I suddenly feeling so odd? I look…I must look like a groupie to them, not myself.

“Oh, Y/N! How are you, dear?” Freddie greeted, waving his arms up.

Waving back, you gave him a small hug. Right as you greeted Roger, you heard Freddie ring out from behind you.

“Have to head out! I’ve got to meet someone for a drink- a sudden date, you would say! Farewell, loves! I’ll return later, Rog!”

He was practically waltzing away from the two of you. There was a pause. The breeze picked up and you held your coat tighter for warmth.

“S’bloody cold, Y/N, let’s go in,” Roger offered.

He walked into the complex to where his door was. As he took out his key to the door, you began to talk, albeit shyer than usual.

“By the way, thank you for the gift.”

Roger turned to you, head tilted and squinting.

“Huh? What gift?” he asked.

As his key went in, he noticed it was already unlocked. Barely shrugging it off, he opened the door.

It was filled with candles and roses.

You both gasped, a little shocked and smiling. Though your insides felt like butter. There was distant patter of footsteps a few feet away, like a small stampede of horses. But when you glanced out to the other doors there was no one.

“Roger, it…it looks beautiful!” you praised.

“Why it…it does, but Y/N…I didn’t do it,” he confessed.

He looked down and scratched his head. His cheeks were the color of the rose petals.

“What, really?” you asked.

As you took off your jacket casually to hang it up in the coat closet, Roger kept staring at your outfit. Now his whole face matched the roses.

“That’s…pretty weird. But…nice of them. The boys, I mean.”

“I just got this outfit with a card saying it was from you,” you recalled.

Roger huffed and scuttled over to the chairs and turned the knob on his tv set. He continually checked his watch to be safe for the time.

“Anyway, uh, films on, let’s…let’s watch it!” he blubbered.

And the mysterious gifts and their origin were left ignored.

Roger folded his arms and tried his best to stare at the movie best he could, biting back almost a laugh or even a smile.

But as the killer in the movie was revealed, stabbing his screaming victims, you felt Roger’s eyes continually wander to you. First in flutters. Then in glances. Then in staring. You knew because everything you looked up briefly at him, his yellow head turned away.

Both of you sat still. Neither one asked the other for a drink or a snack or anything as the movie went on.

“You do look, really…really nice Y/N,” he complimented.

Your head flipped over. The breath in you stopped and you felt it suddenly flush back in, going a little dizzy.

“I mean, you’ve always looked nice and I swear, I never really…you just look especially nice tonight!” he clarified.

Smiling, you mumbled a thank you, while looking down at your lap.

As the movie went on, you both relaxed a little more. Your shoulders dipped down. A natural grin let up your face. You saw one on Roger as well.

Roger’s hand moved closer. Inch by inch. Then you felt it over yours.

Sweating, you accepted it. Although now the sudden threat of a masked serial killer that lurked in the night was nothing compared to your reality.

You scooted closer to Roger. He scooted closer in kind.He looked into your eyes. You looked in his.

“Roger…I…just…I just…” you blubbered, words running out before you could stop them.

“What is it?” he asked.

Now they dashed out as quick as the breaking of a dam.

“I’ve always liked you but…liked liked you- oh god, I must sound like a kid.”

“You don’t, you…you actually make perfect sense!” Roger answered, he began to chew his lower lip.

“What d’you mean?”

“I…I’ve loved you! It sounds ridiculous coming out of me- I am not a sap! I swear! I hate sappy things! But, but-but I’ve always wanted to just scream it from the top of some hill- I love you!” he confessed.

He put a hand against your face, gently caressing it. You leaned in closer to it, almost shivering from the sensation. Softly, Roger leaned forward too.

“Oh, for god’s sake,” he cursed right before tilting his head and kissed you.

It was wet and you could taste the chicken he ate and the strong tobacco from the smoking. He was so close, and so warm, with the smell of sweat and shampoo. You felt your hands go over his arm, pulling him closer.

You pulled away, and then you went in for another kiss, to make sure it was all real. His hands went to your back and pressed you against him closer. You were one mind and flesh for only a few seconds. Both of you pulled away briefly. There were a few soft chuckles released with a puff of released breath. He then pressed a forehead to yours. Your eyes closed for a second, feeling it, taking it all in. The two of you were breathing in unison, feeling that space between you that was desperate to be filled back again, to finally disappear.

Meanwhile outside, Freddie only leaned against a stoplight, barely looking at the window of the place. Brian and John stood by him, with their hands in their pockets. Seeing the light go out in Roger’s place, they all knew their job was done and they left to celebrate.

Taglist: @queenlover05 @stardust-killer-queen

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cloviaglade · 4 years

Text

I noticing a trend where I'm doing this thing where I write my friend's oc and my oc together doing things....

Anyway here is Sorrel and @belphegorasmr 's oc Sookie becoming friends (sorta) at a Lucifer can suck my @$$ club

"THE INCANTATION, SOOKIE. DO YOU KNOW IT OR NOT!?" The demon professor bellowed.

Sookie already felt bad enough being the only student unable to cast this spell. Heck they are the only human student with no magical powers! They already felt bad enough that they had to be exempt from the casting portion but not even remembering the words to say… wow.

"Today puny human!" a demon classmate sneered from the other side of the class.

IIt's just a bunch of words why can't they remember! They studied so hard! The pressure was about to get to them when the human sitting at the desk next to them started tapping on the desk very loudly and coughed. Sookie looked over and the girl carefully gestured to the paper where she has written the incantation.

"rosmarinus mentha petroselinum enchelycore pardalis" Sookie read of the page.

"Finally… yes that is the incantation. Moving on-"

Sookie sighed with relief. That classmate is new...well newish. She came in a few weeks ago. She rubbed her forehead with her fingertips, flipped back to her notes, and started writing again. Sookie should thank her for the help… but what was her name again...

Right as the bell rang signaling the end of the day Sookie tried to thank her. She was packing up her books into her backpack with sookie sorta standing nearby trying to think of a way to introduce themself.

"Great… look at what you've done now Sorrel…" the human said to just herself loud enough that Sookie could hear.

"S-Sorrel? Uh hey. I-"

"Not intrested." Sorrel said as she brushed past Sookie.

Sorrel groaned. Curse her kind nature. 4 visable pact marks and no knowledge of magic. How does someone even get that many pacts without knowing any spells? Can they even cast? She never seen them get called on to cast any of the spells. Oh Demeter they are a walking mess with that many pacts and no magic to make a demon submit. She cant imagine the horror that will occur when all those demons come to "collect".

Sorrel opened her locker and unzipped her bag. She placed the unneeded books and collected a project for the club she recently joined. Well not that she can really call it that. It's just Satan and his little brother Belphegor from what she has heard. More of a brother bond thing she will inevitably be the third wheel in. She won't admit it but she only agreed to it out of fear. She has no interest in hating on Lucifer but she is great with pranks. In her herbology of the three realms class she came up with a really good one that could accomplish both the clubs and her own.

"Hey… you didn't let me finish."

Oh.. not this loser again.

"I only helped you because I wanted the class to go on. There is no need to thank me. You owe me nothing." Sorrel explained. Why is her kind always so eager to make friends?

"All I was going to say was…" Sookie a notebook in their hands. No that wasnt a notebook that was Sorrel observational diary. The one that if a demon read it would report her and have her expelled at best beheaded at worse.

"You forgot it." Sookie said.

Sorrel reaches up and grabs sookie by the collar of their uniform pulling them down to her level.

"PLEASE TELL ME YOU DID NOT READ IT!" Sorrel growled through clenched teeth. She snatched the journal away from them.

"No-no I wouldnt dare." Sookie only grabbed it and was trying to return it. They assumed it was just notes for the class they were just in.

"Good! Now if you excuse me I have a club meeting to go to." Sorrel said and stormed off.

Sorrel walked towards the House of Lamentation. This is the first time heading to the house but she has a GPS app with the address put in. She was walking along but she could tell she was being followed. She was coming up on a turn soon and according to her DDD there will be a long stretch of road to the house of Lamentation. Surely she wouldn't be followed there… unless her follower is really really dumb.

Sure enough Sorrel was followed. Oh now they are going to get it. Sorrel pretended to trip but what she really did was leave a trap. A few short moments and the spell was activated.

"WHAAAAAAA!!!"

"Gotcha!" Sorrel shouted. You won't believe who was following her.

"Sookie! Why are you following me!? This place is dangerous!" Sorrel shouted surprized that out of all the things that could have followed her to the house of Lamentation ot would be this human.

"I'm just trying-"

"No you go the other way! I'm taking a huge enough of a risk as is heading this way. You could die. If you value your life you will wait for the vines to dispel and go the other way! I don't Care what you are trying to do you don't ever come this way ever again!" Sorrel explained before running off.

Finally… she reached the House of Lamentation. She texted Satan to let him know she was on her way. Satan welcomed her in and lead Sorrel to what would be the meeting room. She wasn't expecting their to be a formal room for the club since it was just satan and his brother but I guess they are taking this clube thing very seriously.

"Here it is go and head on in. Belphie is already waiting inside." Satan said as he opened the door.

Sorrel wasn't expecting much… but this…

This was just sad.

It was a musky old closet. Some of the clothes that hung from the hangers were rotted with age. Belphegor was already in the room sleeping in an open cardboard box cuddling his cow print pillow. There was a dusty moldy cushion, a metal fold out chair and another box slightly crushed as if someone tried to sit there but it caved under their weight. There was a whiteboard and a corkboard in the room with various papers and notes scribbled on them.

You would think with a house this large and upscale they would have a better room to set up in.

"...where do I sit?" Sorrel asked, trying to hide her disgust. Why did she agree to this?

"The cushion. The chair is for the founder and president satan." Belphegor said from his box.

"Ahh…" Sorrel cringed a little. She took off her cape and covered the cushion with it before sitting on it. Satan took his spot and pulled out his phone.

"So is the meeting starting?" Sorrel asked after a few moments of awkward silence.

"We are waiting for one more member." Satan said.

"Why are they late…?" Belphegor growled from his box.

"They said they would be running late." Satan clairfied.

Sorrel did wonder which brother of theirs could g the forth. Mammon had every right to want to join a Lucifer hating club. She was introduced to him while he was strung up upside down. Then there is Asmodeus who hangs around Satan fairly often. The two seem to get along well… but Asmodeus doesnt seem to hate Lucifer. Which brother is it then?

A few more moments passed and a patterned knock on the closet. Finally… maybe this club meeting can be done and over with so Sorrel can finally get some fresh air.

"Sorry I'm late…."

Oh of all the rotten…

"SOOKIE!?" Sorrel gasped.

"Welcome in. We were waiting for you. I see you have met our newest member." Satan said.

"Uh… hi. I just got a little tangled up was all." Sookie tried to make themselves small desperately not wanting to be in thsi situation.

"Who kept you?" Belphegor asked from inside his box. His tone has the faintest hint of anger.

"No… nobody. It's fine" Sookie replied. They wanted to avoid any more conflict.

"If you have a problem you don't have to be afraid to ask for help. We keep telling you to stand up for yourself." Satan added.

The meeting began in earnest. Sorrel trying to contain how completely terrified. She toned out most of the meeting. She took a few deep breaths calm herself as best she can. Those pact marks on Sookie must belong to some of these brothers. Somehow this lanky disaster human manged to pact at least 4 of them. No wonder why she didn't recognize the marks. The seven lords rarely make pacts. She needs to be on Sookie's good side. Someone with that kind of power could be useful.

"Sorrel you texted me earlier that you had an idea." Satan said snapping Sorrel out of her thoughts

"Oh yes…" she dug into her bag and pulled out a folder. She pulled a few papers out and passed them to Satan. He glances over each page.

"I don't understand what these documents mean…" Satan said.

"They are human world legal forms. One is for child support for Satan. It says he needs to take responsibility as a parent. Another is a summons to court for Belphegor to sue Lucifer for not winning the celestial war." Sorrel explained. Sookie snickered at the idea but the demons seemed a bit confused.

"And what do you plan to do with these forms?" Satan asked.

"We make a ton on copies and mix it into whatever paperwork that he needs to do." Sorrel said.

"Brilliant! Meeting adjourned. I have some copies to make." Satan said getting up from his chair and leaving the room.

"Hey wait I can help you with that!" Sorrel called out but he didn't listen.

Sookie sighed. They were the next to walk out of the closet. They didn't have any hard feelings against Sorrel. She was just trying to protect them...right? She has to have some merit for Satan to have taken notice of her. Then again Sorrel did tangle them up in vines in an area she thought was dangerous and left them alone and vulnerable.

Whatever. They could live with seeing Sorrel in class and once a week for this stupid do nothing club. Satan did seem happy with her idea. They can tolerate her for Satan's sake.

"Wait. Sookie." Sorrel tapped on Sookie's sholder.

"Sorrel! Geez... I'm just heading to my room." Sookie explained.

"I… I just want to apologize. Not just because you have powerful demosn on your side. I was rude." She said slightly bowing her head.

"It's fine… I guess you were trying to watch out for me. But I'malsosorryifIdidsomethingthatupsetyou" Sookie apologized back. Why where they so weird?

"No you where just trying to be nice. I was dismissive. Regardless we should exchange numbers not only because we are in a club together but because sometimes you just need a human to talk to." Sorrel explained.

"Uh thanks I… I promise I won't text you at weird hours or anything." Sookie said as they pulled out their DDD and gave Sorrel their number.

"Would be amusing if you did." Sorrel smiled.

#obey me #obey me!#obey me ocs #obey me oc #obey me fanfic #sorrel

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judgement-free-sideblog · 4 years

Text

Blood, tears and sea breeze.

Warnings: ANGST, mental health issues, graphic depictions of violence, blood, cursing, description of sexual assault, mentions of sex, substance abuse.

This is a very dark chapter, is not graphic, but it is really sad.

Summary: The not so peaceful town of Broadchurch face dead again, while Alec Hardy continues his journey to redemption will this school teacher be the key to solve the mystery or just another victim of the ever watching evilness that seems to reside in the town.

First Previous Next

Chapter 12: Green lights

The four adults walked inside in silence, and the paced sound of the metronome was the only noise they could hear for a moment, somehow it made the room feel darker, and cold, even when a shiny yellow sun could be guessed outside the window through the white curtains.

Hardy look away from the device, sitting right in the middle of the desk next to the Dr. Cecil Florence plaque, and a tea cup. In the middle of the office there was a comfortable couch, the one he already knew too well. It wasn't a loud sound, however he find it unnerving and was desperate to make it stop, thankfully he wouldn't have to sit next to it.

Miller sited on an empty chair, the one closer to the door, and gave an awkward smile to Doctor Florence as in "Don't read anything into this" although she was sure her stiff movements were already telling the doctor she didn't want to be there.

Alec lean against the window trying to look at the whole room at once, but he didn't rise his look too high, avoiding Cecil's curious gaze, then he noticed Y/N nervously rubbing her wrist, he remembered seeing her do it before, but somehow he hadn't pay enough attention to the fact before.

"Are you going to make me sing psalms too?" Y/N said with a smile pointing at the metronome.

"Beg your pardon?" Dr Florence said with a strained look.

"Sister Mary, she was an old noun that was in charge of the church long before Father Coats" Alec rise his look with some anger at the way she talked about Paul, and immediately reprimanded himself. "When I was little if you get in trouble she would put out one of those out and made you sing psalms to, I don't know scare the devil away or something".

"Only because the stupid cow was already too old to use the cane" Miller said laughing too. "I still have the scar on my thigh, all because I was late to sunday school" Hardy tried to hide the Oh that's what that red mark was realization out of his mind, but he was thankful that Ellie always knew how to lighten the mood in a room.

"Well, don't worry, is only to guide your train of thought" The doctor said and Y/N sat on the couch a bit more relaxed. "Before we started I want to ask you again if you are okay with the detectives being here, and with this procedure, I also must remind you that this could be emotionally draining, and that we might not always found actual memories"

"I know all that doc, it's okay, let's do it" she laid back on the couch after giving a secure wink to the woman and closed her eyes.

"Fine, then I must remind the detectives that you shall not interfere under any circumstances, in case she needs to stop I will make the procedure stop if I consider it necessary." they nodded and everything went silent again except for the device "You should focus on the sound, use it to guide your breathing, I won't tell you were to start, but I would want you to imagine yourself in a place that brings you comfort

Click... click... click

"I'm in my room, I'm getting ready to go out with Jonathan and Ash..."

"Why are you going out?" Her voice was soothing and Y/N breath was calmed, Miller thought she would fall asleep before she could say anything but then she began recalling the event like she was living it again.

Ashley had gotten a excellent week at the Deli, so she had invited me and Jonathan to celebrate, he was on a grumpy mood, not uncommon on the last few days, but he accept to come with us anyway, he even agreed to wear that ugly purple shirt her mother sent for his birthday. She was always talking about how I never let him dress like a City boy anymore.

We were only the three of us, Charlie didn't came because her mother had a cold and he had to take care of her, sometimes I wonder if he was not angry that Ashley moved out, maybe I will bring Mrs. Langford some soup tomorrow to make him company.

Ashley looked stunning, like she always did, I was never bold enough to wear that kind of short dresses, Jonathan even had to scare a couple guys away from her while they went to get us drinks.

"Only two shots" He said with that dad like look he always had for me to prevent me from doing anything fun... I guess I won't see that anymore

"You are doing great dear" The doctor said once tears star running down her cheek, "Focus on the club, were you in Broadchurch, what time it was? Do you remember the music?"

Some horrible techno music, something kids listen, most of the people around didn't look old enough to be out at 12:00, let alone drink.

The tequila was smooth, and after the second shot I stand up to dance with Ashley, but it was crowded, so I lost her after a while and went back to sit at the table, Jonathan was gone, and I ordered more shots, I don't remember two or maybe three. I started feeling dizzy, so I stand up to go to the bathroom maybe Jonathan was there, it have been long and he hasn't come back.

I saw Ashley kissing a handsome man she often do that when we were younger, that's why she left her house, their parents were too conservative, and she was fighting with Charles all the time because of it, I never actually mind that she do that, but I felt mad, because she had left me alone so I tried to walk out of the club

"Hey hey hey" a voice said behind me, it was a large man, he was wearing a bright red shirt, and he smelled like bourbon, and aftershave, he had nice eyes "Are you okay dear?" I tried to tell him I was fine and walk away but my feet were no longer responding and the green lights of the club were making my head hurt, I was not sure how was I so far from the crowd

"I can't breathe" I said and I tried to walk outside but his hand was on my wrist and he didn't let go

"Let's go outside, you need air" he said and then the cold air of the night strike me in the face, the moon was out, he was smoking, and I was trying to get some clarity, but everything was so confusing and my legs felt week...

"You smell so nice" he said with his hot breathing my neck and one of his hands on my chest, I tried to scream, to run maybe but then everything went red, I felt a stinging pain on my head, and how he lift me from the ground.

Hardy was tense angrily listening to her story, and definitely not wanting to keep listening, but he didn't interrupt her, and obviously the women in the room were not thrill to listen either, Y/N breathing was now fast and she was fully crying but she kept her eyes closed.

He took away my ring, and for a moment I was glad because I thought he was trying to rob me, but then I could hear him taking off his pants, I kept my eyes closed, I tried to scream to call Jonathan and Ashley, anyone... I thought I was going to die, I would have rather die... I thought of my parents... and I got enough strength to scream and I did, but then he hit me in the face again, and then, Please don't do that... Please stop! Stop!! Someone help me!!...

"Stop this" Ellie said loudly "Please doctor stop this"

"DS Miller, I have to ask you to remain impartial" she said with a quiet voice but she was also very affected by the story.

Hardy was not listening, by that moment Y/N voice were only screams, and she had now the same lost look she did at the Latimer's house. He approach her carefully, but she was desperately rubbing her wrist again and not letting the doctor come near her so she went to her desk to prepare something to tranquilize her.

"I lost it, my mom said I should always keep it on, and I lost it, she is going to be mad" she said with a voice that reminded him of Daze when she cut his ties in ribbons for her dolls, and he wondered if she was still not entirely awake.

"Y/N" he said desperate to act before the doctor would injected the medication, and this time he didn't hesitate and simply hold her tight against his chest "I'm here, you are at Doctor Florence's office ok?" Once she was calmed he make her look at him softly "I'm with you, you're safe" she looked thankful at him but didn't let go, and he could only hold her patting her head, trying to avoid Miller concerned look, and ignoring the fact that the unsettling feeling in his stomach was now satisfied because she was on his arms.

"I would expect that you would be following my advice from now on and not force this poor girl to more trauma in the future" the doctor said to him once Y/N exited the room to go to the restroom.

"I hope we could" Miller said defeated "But if that memory was true in any way now we have to look for a sex offender and a murderer"

"When she was waking up, she said... the way she talked..." Alec tried to elaborate

"It's an old wound, I was convinced she was over that by now, but apparently not" The doctor started. "When she was youger she was diagnosed with absence crisis, a special kind of epilepsy, and her parents made her use a bracelet in case she suffered a crisis at school or so, the idot that treat her before me had her under many medications because he couldn't determine her anxiety disorder, so I work with her to take her out of the meds, and eventually she was having a very normal life, she kept using the bracelet as comfort when she felt anxious, but she did not have crisis anymore"

"Until her parents die?" Miller asked remembering what she read in her archive.

"Precisely, they had a discussion, when she finished Uni she wanted to take a job across the sea in Paris or something like that, she gave her mother the bracelet and she went to stay with her friend Ashley on their own, and then her parents had the accident, she has always felt guilty, and since she didn't recover the bracelet she sometimes goes back to her childhood when they make her use it, is just a minor compulsion, not weird under this circumstances"

"She didn't find it?" Alec ask cautiously.

"No, apparently it was not at her parents house, I'm sorry is something else I can help you with?" She said and he change his expression immediately.

"It's fine, we will be in touch if we need anything else, we are very grateful for your help" Ellie said and the doctor went back to her office a d they walked out to wait for Y/N at the car.

"Someone is definitely liying" Miller said once they were inside and grey clouds start covering the sky. "That bracelet was on her the day the body was found" she said.

"I know, but not on any pictures from before that, so either our killer put it on her or she lied to the doctor, but that was, what 10 years ago? Is too long for something she simply forgot to tell her shrink about" a lightning illuminate the sky and the thunder following let him now that will be a rainy day. "I was hoping we'll get more from this, but now we have to listen her friend again, she didn't remember that night, only she was at home with the boyfriend angry about something."

"I can't imagine how did he found her, and she is in no way ready to answer that yet, we had to check out the club, maybe someone saw something, I hate this bloody case" She hit the wheel with her fist. "That poor girl, every time I'm more convinced she is the victim here, but it's all just confusing"

"Yeah, I mean maybe you should take today off, it was hard to hear what she said inside"

"I could say the same about you" He look at her surprised "Oh don't gave me that look, I was not going to comment on this, but you are getting too involved in this"

"Of course I'm not!" He tried to defend himself but she was not paying attention to him.

"Yes you are, and look I'm not going to say anything, but if you became partial on your judgment, for the case, and for your own good, I'm removing you from the case" she said and make a sign to Y/N to show her they were already in the car.

"I thought I was still your superior" He said quietly before she got inside.

"I'll talk to you boss then" she said with a smile, and he knew then that she was not joking, he rolled his eyes with anger because she was right, he would have done the same, and also he was concerned that maybe he was letting Y/N get under his skin making it impossible for him to remain impartial about her.

Tag list:

@allonsymexgirl @laciesaito @tf18unipups @dazedkrosupreme @timey-wimey-lovi

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demonprosecutor · 4 years

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it’s after dinner that they’re coaxed into the library by a strangely worded text in the group chat from ami, strange as in proper pronunciation and correct spelling. asmo worries his lower lip with his teeth, squinting at the text with a faint sense of unease. “what do you think it could be?” he frets, wringing a hand before tugging at the coiffed curl at the side of his face before petting it down -- call it a nervous habit, but he’s nervous.

“if its another powerpoint about her favourite superhero, im leaving to go nap.” belphie grumbles, smushing his face into his cow print pillow, already getting tired at the thought of having to listen to ami sob about wonder woman for 2 hours. beel rubs his tummy, frowning slightly.

“maybe i should’ve gotten snacks....”

all the while, lucifer rolls his eyes, pushing the doors to the library open and stopped short at the semi-circle of chairs and ami leaning against a table with a familiar TV on it and her laptop hooked onto it with a powerpoint. ignoring the i told you so from his youngest brother, his eyes flickered towards Levi who flushed slightly.

“what? she asked for help and said that she’d do raids with me, i couldn’t help it!”

her head jerks up and she smiles at them all beatifically, teeth showing in that strange politeness that instantly makes them all wary. mammon shudders, “oh, this can’t be good...”

ami claps her hands together, straightening up and gesturing to the chairs. “you all came! awesome, please take a seat!” she waits for them to all sit, standing before them with that strange smile and strange look. like she doesn’t know whether she wants to kick their asses or hug them.

“is this gonna take long because i got a raid happening in twenty minutessss.....” levi’s complaints taper off slowly at the sharpened look before feigning a look at his D.D.D. “wow! they canceled it, omg hahahaha.” sinking into his seat, hiding his hands into his sleeves.

“you all must be wondering why i called this meeting today because it has come to my attentions that everyone here, including myself, are assholes and frankly, are extremely rude to each other and especially rude to Mammon.” mammon reddens and hikes his shoulders up, crossing his arms to hide his embarrassment. “so i will be implementing a few changes that will be applicable to everyone and this is for our own good. if you refuse to act like adults, i will treat you all like the little children in my junior kickers class in my tae kwon do club.”

the brothers exchange looks of varying degrees of alarm, they really won’t leave this presentation with their dignities intact.

she had laid out some ground rules: no being unnecessarily mean to each other, punishments that were equal to the consequence (ami stared pointedly at lucifer who glowered back at her) and time outs.

“time outs are for children.” lucifer cut in, frowning and crossing his arms.

ami smiled widely again: “that they are! like i said in my introduction, i am going to treat you all like children because i have repeatedly asked for you to be nicer to each other and you never listened. 15 minutes is the initial punishment, but every time you act up, i’ll add 5 minutes. you sit on that stool,” ami points to the stool in the corner. “and sit there and think about what you’ve done.”

mammon whined, “gnghhhh... that sounds so boring.”

“well, i want you to be alone with your thoughts!”

#am i gonna finish this?

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the-spoonicorn · 4 years

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short dreams i’ve had that aren’t long enough for their own post:

7/21/20 i had a dream that i was haru persona5 and people were veeeeeery suspicious that i was one of the phantom thieves and i was like haha nooo what that's impossible. also in order to access the metaverse you had to say a long and complicated chant without messing it up and i was trying to use that to escape scrutiny but people kept messing me up

7/18/20 i had a dream that my mom was trying to suffocate me. like i was on my stomach and she had me pinned down and was performing some sort of reverse cpr? where she tried to make me not breathe? and nobody believed me even though the rest of my family was IN THE SAME ROOM. also in this dream we had personal servants who'd been working for us for years but somehow i never knew of them and the chef was this mexican lady who made me a really good burrito. but only half.

also in this dream i could fly

3/29/20 i had a dream that i had a thick southern accent, and i was trying to escape from this other southern lady but she knew all of the secret passages in the sams club we were in

(this is literally all i wrote for that one?)

3/26/20 i had this dream about this death game anime. it was kinda like a mix between danganronpa and jinrou game, and everyone had a knife but only like 2 people were werewolves. and everyone dies if they can't figure out who's who, including the werevolves. and everyone was an anime character except one person: a girl i knew in middle school. so it's end end of the game and the showrunners promised that everyone could leave because something or other if everyone threw their knives down but (GASP) it was a lie! but everyone had already gotten rid of their weapons... everyone except the girl from middle school... and then she proceeded to give a long, logically sound speech about who was who and why, and also how she had deduced the showrunners' intentions of never letting them leave long ago, but now there was nothing anyone could do to stop them because everyone had disposed of their knives. so with that, everyone fucking died. the end

1/15/20 i had a dream last night that one of the bones in my right arm was shattered. like it was broken but most of it was missing except for a few fragments. it was the ulna that was broken, and i had an x-ray and it was like... yep... your bone is gone. and i was like oh. ok. i think i was gonna go on a quest to find what happened to it, but hey, no bone no problem

10/13/19 2 short dreams at once:

first one was that i had this huge ace pride umbrella and some bitch stole it + some other stuff from me so i bullied her so hard she gave them back and at the end i was like "oh yeah i bought this umbrella for $12 from walgreens"

and then the other was like i was a cowboy in a classic loner-turned-heroic-sheriff-of-tiny-western-town plot, and there was this bad guy coming to town who wanted to monopolize the beef market so he said that if he saw one cow in the town he'd murder everyone there. so i came up with a plan to disguise all the cows as horses, and he was suspicious of all the horses but didn't find out about the cows. i remember one part where i was hiding from the bad guy and ended up in this one guy's house where he ran a barber shop but he had electricity and a gamer chair and i was like "huh that doesn't seem like it fits in the 1800's" and anyway i hid in his attic hoping the guy wouldn't find me and kill me then i woke up

10/7/19 i had a dream that:

-i went to bed with only 1 earring in -i went to bed without putting the milk back in the fridge (i did not consume any milk previously) -my dogs were cats and could talk -trump actually got impeached and was replaced by a fake duck -i forgot to clean my room (this one is true) -something about anime

8/23/19 i had a dream that everyone had don't tread on me signs in their cars but some of them said weird things like "english biscuit" and "eat the snake" instead. and i was so confused because the trend came out of nowhere

#sppbr had a dream last night #will be queuing the rest of them because there's A LOT and idw to spam

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ancientbooshartifacts · 5 years

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Carpe Noctem

Author: Silent-Fields

Year: 2010

Rating: PG-13

Characters: Richmond, Anthrax & Ebola

Richmond watched as the children of the night careened about in a haze of smoke, extending their pale arms towards Heaven and Hell. After weeks of careful research, tonight was the night Richmond had decided to set out and experience his first goth club. He had chosen Pandora's Box because it offered two rooms spinning various genres, a lounge, and a very extensive bar. He was in the gothic room at the moment, enjoying the contrast of ethereal female vocals with demonic male ones echoing from the club's speakers. With his last few paychecks as Project Executive, Richmond built himself up an extensive wardrobe, favoring mostly Victorian and Edwardian inspired styles, but liking the cuts on many of the more modern clothes as well. Most of his old clothes were then donated, but he did keep a few pieces. A purple dress shirt did look quite nice with a black tie. For his debut he wore a black frock coat, a black ruffled shirt whose cuffs dangled just enough over his hands to be dramatic but not a hindrance, and a maroon waistcoat. Black trousers and pointed boots completed his outfit. He had recreated the eye make-up he had done for Denholm's father's funeral, but chose to simply line his lips' natural shape rather than draw them into a frown. He wanted to be approachable, trying for subtle indifference with a hint of misery for tonight's look. His parents had been more upset about his demotion than his new lifestyle. "You always liked The Addams Family and Tim Burton movies," his mother said with a shake of her head. "And there was that time your father took you to see Kiss. But Richmond dear, can you still support yourself?" Richmond had enough savings to cover any emergencies that may arise within the next few months and tended to live rather frugally, so the lower pay hadn't really bothered him. What had been surprising was how much more comfortable he was now, finding solace in the shadows of the night after years of corporate competition under harsh florescent. Richmond had been so lost in reminiscing that he didn't notice two girls approaching him until they were right in front of him. The taller of the two was wearing a long black velvet dress with bell sleeves, her wavy blonde hair flowing over both her shoulders. The shorter girl's black hair was pinned back with spider shaped sliver clips, and she wearing a black knee-length tank dress with zippers on the straps, fishnet stockings, and combat boots. Both wore matching necklaces, a silver dagger on a satin cord that stopped at the tops of their breasts. Drinks in hand and small purses on their shoulders, they introduced themselves. "Hello, I'm Ebola.” said the blonde, her manner stoic. "And I'm Anthrax." said the other, her tone equally void of emotion. "Richmond." He replied with a bow. Oh dear, should I have created pseudonym? Alabaster? No, sounds silly. Ammonite? Possibly too obscure. Maybe I should have used my last name, it does sound a bit more gothic . . . "We haven't seen you here before, is this your first time?" Anthrax asked, interrupting his thoughts. "Oh yes, yes it is." "They seem to be playing older stuff tonight, not a bad night to drop in. Would you care to join us in the lounge?" Richmond nodded and Anthrax's lips curled upwardly slightly, flashing the tips of a pair of fangs as she turned toward the door. Richmond followed as the girls effortless weaved their way through the dancing patrons towards the lounge. They sat on a vacant purple velvet settee while Richmond sat in an adjacent chair, the table in front of them covered with ashtrays and empty glasses. Candlelight and black fabric draped from the ceiling surrounded them. Ebola sat her glass down and fished a cigarette and lighter out of her purse while Anthrax and Richmond held on to their drinks. "So Richmond, what do you do?" Ebola asked, lighting her cigarette. She held up her free hand before he could reply. "Wait, let me guess. Computer programmer? No no, graphic designer." Richmond furrowed his brow in confusion. "Nearly every guy here works with computers," Anthrax explained. "It provides a relaxed office dress code and a pay check that supports the lifestyle." "Oh. Um, I work in IT." It felt odd saying that, as Richmond still had no idea what kind of work he was expected to do. Though it is quite nice working in the basement. "Ah." Anthrax took a sip of her drink, something dark red. "The bartender here is quite excellent, always coming up with some new delicious and deadly cocktail. I see you've gone with The Green Fairy." "I quite like absinthe." Richmond replied with perhaps too much enthusiasm. He was drinking a cocktail of the previously mentioned bartender's own design. While lounge was relaxing, Pandora's Box was primarily a dance club, and did not lend itself to melting sugar cubes into luminous green filled glasses, so he settled for a mixed drink that contained some of his favorite liquor. "Oh I'm sure you'll meet him eventually." Ebola said, rolling her eyes. Richmond looked quite confused. "Absinthe is the owner and operator of a S&M club nearby." Anthrax explained. "It's members only with the exception of a few events throughout the year." She looked him up and down. "You could probably become a member without too much difficulty." "Oh I see." Richmond wasn't quite sure how he was supposed to interpret that statement. "Um . . . are you members?" "Yes." Ebola replied, taking a drag from her cigarette. "Why, are you interested?" "Not now, maybe one day." Richmond shifted and took a sip of his drink. He noticed Anthrax looking him again and he suddenly wondered if maroon was too bright of a colour for the occasion. "This isn't just your first time here is it?" she asked. "It's your first time out a goth club." Richmond blinked. "Oh dear, was it obvious?" "A bit" she replied, her fangs once again peeking out over her near smile. "Oh. Well I am still feeling my way around the culture." he admitted "It does get associated with a lot of different things." Anthrax commented. "How did you become interested in the lifestyle?" Ebola asked, placing her cigarette on the closest ashtray. "Cradle of Fifth." he replied, hiding his grin with a sip of his drink. "May I ask you two what interested you in becoming goth?" "Sure," Ebola said with a shrug. "For Anthrax it was The Hunger, that film with David Bowie as a vampire and Susan Sarandon's lesbian scene. If that wasn't enough the moment we start the film she's shaking me asking 'What's this song? Who's that bloke in the cage??'" Anthrax glared at Ebola. "You're the one with the thing for David Bowie." She turned to Richmond, "My older brother was into the scene as well so I'd often watch him put on his make-up before he went out and developed an interest from there. As for Ebola, she fancied my brother." "That wasn't the only reason, you cow." She glared back at Anthrax before replying. "I always loved Lydia's outfits in Beetlejuice, I wanted to dress like her every day. But it was so distressing to see her so happy and normal looking at the end of the film." "Oh yes, I agree. Even if the song is very catchy." Richmond swirled his drink in his glass, watching the bright green whirlpool, wondering what question to ask next. Perhaps they know someplace that provides a more appropriate atmosphere for drinking absinthe . . . Ebola reached for her cigarette, noticing a man walking quickly past them. "Good Evening, Lord Catalyst." she called out. The man froze and turned around with a grimace on his face. He was dressed similar to Richmond, but had chosen to accessorize with a top hat and cane. "You two!" he said with a slight twitch, pointing his finger accusingly. He turned to Richmond dramatically, his cape swirling to match his movement. "Take heed my dear fellow! They are harpies, who will snatch away your soul!" He glared at the two girls on the settee. "I do not mean this as a compliment!" "Oh fuck off!" Ebola hissed. "Or shall we tell him why you're so uncomfortable around us?" Lord Catalyst jumped, his twitch increasing in intensity, and scuttled away. Both girls exchanged a look and a snicker before turning to Richmond. "I'm sorry Richmond. We . . . collect boys on occasion but tonight we were just looking for conversation," explained Anthrax. "Though you are very handsome.” Ebola added. "That's quite alright. I must say, you both have beautiful skulls." "Thank you," they replied in unison. They spent the rest of the evening chatting away in the lounge, occasionally getting up to dance when a song came on that the girls insisted Richmond must dance to. Soon the antique grandfather clock in the lounge struck three, signaling that the evening was at an end. "You've both been very helpful. Thank you." said Richmond as they exited the club, trying not to smile. "There isn't a goth rule again smiling, Richmond." Ebola said with a laugh. "Just don't make it a regular habit." After exchanging phone numbers and email addresses the group went their separate ways, with the promise to meet again soon. ----------------------------------- For the first couple of years they were always out together; going to clubs and films and tea parties in graveyards, meeting up to chat and shop and dance. Anthrax and Ebola quickly discovered Richmond had no trouble pulling, his shy demeanor combined with his theatrical delivery proved highly amusing and rather attractive to both goths and non-goths of all genders. Sometimes they would meet just to compare notes on their various conquests. As the years went on Richmond began to come out less and less, mainly communicating by email and only occasionally by phone. He would still show up to major events and travel with them for Whitby, but Richmond slowly withdrew into his own world as Anthrax and Ebola continued to venture out in to the night. ----------------------------------- Neither Ebola nor Anthrax had seen Richmond for months and after weeks of persistent emails and phone calls, he agreed to come out. Before heading to Pandora's Box they decided to meet up at a near by cafe, sitting in a booth in the back corner, for privacy as well as ambience. Always a gentleman, Richmond waited until the girls had settled before sitting down. Anthrax sat near the wall, dangling her fingers over the table candle as she waited for her tea bag to steep. Ebola stirred her coffee, watching the creamer swirl. Both waited silently, wanting Richmond to speak first. He stared at his coffee, watching the stream curl out of the mug for a while before speaking. "My old boss committed suicide. He just jumped out of a window one day." Anthrax gasped and Ebola jumped slightly. That wasn't the whole story of course, but Richmond didn't feel like explaining that the pensions at Reynholm Industries had been tampered with for years and if Denholm had chosen to think about it, there had probably been an easy way to fix them. But Denholm has always been impulsive and unpredictable, up until the last moments of his life. "The one that demoted you?" Ebola asked carefully. Richmond nodded, still not looking up at either of them. "I slept with him shortly before it happened. It wasn't anything serious; I knew that before we did anything. In a way it sort of felt like closure." Richmond took a slip of his coffee, continuing to look at the table. "I wasn't allowed to attend the funeral, but at the time it didn't really bother me. As the weeks went on though, I found myself becoming rather depressed." "How are they treating you at work?" asked Anthrax. "Oh much better, I'm allowed out during daytime hours now. I still don't talk to my coworkers much - don't really see a reason to. I'm just sort of . . . there." Richmond looked up, saw two pairs of sympathetic looking milky lenses, and looked back down. "I'm not quite sure what to do with myself now." Ebola looked at Anthrax, biting her lip slightly. They searched each other eyes for the right words. Today it was Anthrax's turn to have the epiphany, eyes widening as she turned to face Richmond once more. "Richmond, do you remember the last thing that came out of Pandora's Box?" Richmond looked up from his drink at Anthrax, allowing his frown to become one of confusion rather than despair. She reached across the table and took hold of one of his hands. "It was hope." Richmond blinked, his mouth forming a silent "Oh". Ebola reached across and took hold of his other hand, both girls squeezing before letting go. The friends finished their drinks in a comfortable silence. "I think it's the industrial room tonight my dears." Ebola said as she began to rise out of the booth. "We can dance the night away and count how many times someone samples Dune." "No complaints here." Richmond replied, waiting until Anthrax was out of the booth before standing, trailing behind them both as they walked toward the front. "Oh Richmond we must tell you about this ridiculous boy we met at The Black Spider." Anthrax turned as he held the cafe door open. "He looked a bit like you but lacked your depth. When we asked him what his favorite song was he said it was Gary Numan's Dominion Day." Richmond sneered slightly as he followed her out. "First time?" "First and last, thankfully." And so the friends set out to drink and dance, extending their arms towards the infinite possibilities that lay ahead of them, capturing the night in their pale hands.

#the mighty boosh #mighty boosh #boosh #richmond avenal #anthrax #ebola #anthrax & ebola #the it crowd #it crowd

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times-new · 5 years

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The Son of Rome, Chapter 1

Hi! This is my PJO fanfic, a Roman!Percy AU that I’m writing as a five-part series like the original PJO. I’ve posted the whole first ‘book’, the Son of Rome, on ffn - but I’m posting it here too for good measure. Hope you like it!

Look, I didn't want to be a half-blood. You might think I'm crazy for saying that. Being a demigod? Why would anyone not want to be one?

Well, a lot of reasons. I knew that. But I didn't fully understand it until today.

It started several weeks – no, it must have been months now. Several months ago, I woke up cold, confused, alone, and surrounded by talking wolves. It was scary, sure, but fear wasn't an unfamiliar feeling. Being a twelve-year-old in New York is hard enough, and when you add ADHD and dyslexia to the mix, you might end up with something like me. I had to face bullies from classmates and teachers alike. I was raised in a system that set me up to fail. Even when I come home to my mom, the only good thing in my life, I had to put up with my stepdad. Being scared and alone wasn't anything new.

Okay, that sounded a lot more arrogant than I thought it would. Let me start over. My name is Percy Jackson. I'm a skinny kid with thin black hair and green eyes. I guess I don't look too different from my mom, but I got my eyes from my dad. That's the only thing Mom would tell me about him in twelve years. Enough about him, though. Like I said, I'm ADHD and dyslexic, so school never felt right to me. I just felt like I should be doing a lot more than book reports and geometry. I tried to join the basketball and baseball teams, and although using up all my energy felt good, it just wasn't rewarding.

I was stuck in a loop of doing bad in school, disappointing my mom, getting frustrated, then doing bad in school again. Sometimes I even wish that my dad would finally show up and save us from our lives. My mom keeps telling me how proud she is of me no matter what, and I believe her, but I know she deserves better than that. Better than me. And a little after I turned twelve that wish came true.

I woke up in the ruins of what I thought was a castle at first. It turned out to just be a really big house, but my mind couldn't comprehend that people could actually live in places as big as this. That was almost harder to believe than the talking wolves. They surrounded me when I first woke up, all slick dark fur with beady eyes. Then they had parted to allow a much bigger wolf approach me. Lupa, she said her name was. She told me everything in her deep and powerful voice. That I was a demigod, that I had been chosen, that I had to learn to fight and live and survive the legacy of Rome.

Sure. Better than pre-algebra.

She pushed me to the limit. I did things I didn't know I could do and tore muscles I didn't know I had. When she was done with me I was strong enough to be a member of the pack. I had to be, because I'm still alive.

Right now, I'm sitting in a bus with my backpack on my lap, squished between strangers. Every bump in the road made me clutch my bag even tighter, and my hands would twitch to the coin in the pocket of my jeans. Over the past few days I was traveling towards my destination, some place called Camp Jupiter. Lupa had told me to 'follow my instincts' and 'embrace my destiny'. She was a bit dramatic that way.

But I couldn't describe the feeling any better. I just knew in my bones that this was the right way even if my brain says otherwise. A camp? Like a summer camp? It's probably a bunch of cabins with a volleyball court. It's got to be back in the forest near the Wolf House. How could it possibly be in the middle of the city? It made sense. And yet I knew it wasn't right. The trail of monsters probably helped me decide that.

I tried to keep my head down. Really, I did. But one way or another I would always find some weird nasty trying to kill me. They were always bigger, stronger, and meaner than me, but none of them were taught by wolves, let alone Lupa. I had to use my hard-won wits to beat them. Which meant a lot of running away. It's a lot more heroic than it sounds. But I had to stand and fight more times than I was comfortable with, and that meant busting out the magic sword I kept in my pocket. Lupa had given it to me – she said it's made of 'Imperial gold', that it was meant to be used by the greatest sons and daughters of Rome. I didn't understand why calling gold 'imperial' would make it any better, and I definitely didn't understand how I was 'great', but I learned not to question Lupa. That would only lead to running more laps around the Wolf House.

As far as I knew, I didn't have anything to make me great. Though I always had a nagging feeling, something to do with how I get whenever I go near water… like that one time I tried to join a swimming club and outpaced the instructor, or that one time me and my mom went to the cabin in Long Island. But that can't be right. It can't be. Because if it was, then that would make my dad…

No. A couple days ago I went to a public library to get on a computer and Google some stuff about the Roman gods. I found out that out of all of them, Neptune was the most feared and hated - except for maybe Pluto. After a life of being rejected by everyone I knew, this was my one chance of fitting in. I didn't want to be a loner again. Sadly, I also found out that every monster within a five-mile radius immediately knows where I am whenever I use the internet, so I could never find out more about the Roman gods by myself. The only reason I made it out of that library alive was my coin and very inventive use of a rolling chair.

I snapped back to reality when I saw my stop. I got out of the bus and stepped out into the middle of nowhere. Well, not exactly. But it sure felt like it. The bus stop was on top of a small hill, and I was the only person around. I was surrounded by beautiful golden hilltops and flatlands further in the distance where the suburbs of San Francisco sprawled. Far away, I could see the Golden Gate Bridge, and on the opposite side, I could see a mountain with its peak hiding behind a cloud. I wasn't sure where I was. But something just felt right. I had followed my instincts like Lupa taught me, and I would know I was right because I would always find –

I heard a snort behind me. The only thing I heard for a few moments after that was my heart beating in my chest. Then I plucked up the courage to turn around.

It was tall, muscled, and really, really smelly. Like, worse than my stepdad smelly. It was naked except for a loincloth, though that wasn't what I was looking at. Its nose was covered in reddish snot, and its eyes were dull black and fixed on me. But my eyes kept drifting to the top of its head, where two cruelly twisted horns sprouted out like the stunted plants from one of my failed science experiments. I guess it looked pretty normal until you moved past its neck and onto its bull's head. I wondered why I didn't notice it before. The Mist, I realized. It must have affected me, and the mortals even more. It was the magic that covered up our world from everyone else, Lupa had told me. People saw what they want to see, and it's never the truth. Even now the thing's head would sometimes look like a misshapen human head with a cowboy hat. And I figured that if someone saw the man-bull for what it was, it could probably go on all fours and moo and no one would look twice.

That made me choke out a laugh. Apparently cows took offense to that, because it roared and charged at me. My battle instincts kicked in, so of course I turned and ran. Look, I promise I'm a demigod, alright?

My first thought was to think back to what I knew about bulls. Well if I'm being completely honest my first thought was Oh my gods, please don't kill me, I'm sorry I had a cheeseburger this morning! My second thought was racking my brain about bulls. Even when I was sprinting up and down hills with a monster at my tail I could think up a few things. First, beef is delicious. Second, cows don't like the color red. Not a lot to go on, but I was under a lot of pressure. Then I remembered that some people would go in an arena with bulls and wave red flags in front of their faces. I forgot what they were called – mats? Doors? Whatever they were called, they always dodged by moving to the side just before they got hit. I hoped that would help me, because I began to feel the thing's breath on my neck, like my pre-algebra teacher. That didn't help me calm down.

I dodged to my right before I knew what I was doing. Sure enough, there was a surprised grunt and I risked a look back. Now that I was closer I could see that it was a lot less human than I thought. It had fur on its chest and arms, but even under all that I could see veins rippling below its bulging muscles. It looked off-balanced for a minute, until it shook its head and barreled at me again.

I can't outrun him, I realized with a jolt. Even now I was starting to get tired and the man-bull was just warming up. The sharp turns were hurting my ankles, and the thing was starting to get used to my tricks. That left two options. I could overpower it or outsmart it. That first option was crazy, even for me, so I had to use my brain instead. Maybe if I went to the city and ducked into an alley – no, that would just endanger more people. I couldn't do that. Maybe…

My instincts told me that the camp was close. Very close. I needed to buy some time, get on a hill, and look at my surroundings. Right now, the only thing I could see were my feet pounding the soil, and a big shadow getting bigger and bigger. Well then. I decided to do what I do best and did something stupid.

I dodged again, but instead of sprinting I turned around, took off my shoe, and threw it at him. The monster was more surprised than hurt – which made sense, since it flew well over his head. I was no good at archery, so I guess that wasn't shocking. But it did its job. It was distracted long enough for me to reach into my pocket. I pulled out a small golden coin – it was the size of a half-dollar, but solid gold and with weird drawings on it. It had the head of some guy I didn't recognize on one side, and the letters IVLIVS on the other. I didn't know what that meant, but I did know that if I flipped it, it would turn into a Roman gladius: a few feet of sharp monster killer.

I screamed at the top of my lungs, grabbed the sword in midair, and jammed it to the thing's leg. It screamed even louder than me, then reached down to grab me with its meaty hands. I pulled out the gladius just in time and rolled backwards. Golden fluid, what had to be the thing's blood, poured from the wound. Normally monsters would just poof into dust after a solid hit with my sword, but this guy was something else. Still, it fell to its knees when it tried to charge me again, which gave me a few seconds to run up the nearest hill and look around.

I only had a glance. It was enough. I could see huge columns in the middle of the field, then saw that they were holding up a highway above me, where it disappeared into a big hill. To my left were more hills, which began to turn to asphalt streets, while to my right I could reach the suburbs with just a few more minutes of running. But up ahead…

It looked like an old tunnel, built into the side of the big hill. Maybe for maintenance? I wasn't sure what I was looking at, but something just screamed to me, home. The only time I felt that way was when I'm in my tiny apartment, alone with my mom, talking about the rare happy moment in school while eating nachos and her legendary seven-layer dip. It felt right. It felt safe.

That was all the encouragement I needed. I ran through the grass and dirt faster than I thought was possible. I could feel stitches at my side and cramps down my legs, but the smell of monster kept me running. Eventually I could see an entrance in the tunnel, a set of enormous iron doors, and two people who looked like they were wearing armor. They were also holding spears and carrying shields, which reassured me, though they couldn't have been much older than me. But when a charging bull monster was on your butt, you'd take your chances.

"Help!" I screamed. My voice was strained and hoarse – gods, I wish I had drunk before I stepped off the bus. The guards noticed me and looked as scared as I felt. I could see them yelling to each before one of them opened the doors and the other readied his spear. As I got closer I could see his blue eyes and waxy skin underneath his helm. He looked terrified, but he leveled his spear.

"Halt in the name of Rome! Who are – "His voice was shrill, and I might have laughed if my voice was any better.

"Later! Help now!"

He ground his teeth and surged forward. I couldn't believe my eyes. He actually moved to attack.

"Senatus Populusque Romanus!" he shouted. Okay, I thought. Why not.

"Get in!" yelled the other kid. She looked like a girl – it was hard to tell underneath the helmet. That sounded like a great idea to me, and I ducked inside. It was dark inside the tunnel, but I could see a light in the distance. I followed it before turning to the girl.

"What's- "And I realized it wasn't her. Instead, the first guard was running beside me. He had a nasty gash on his shoulder and was breathing heavily, but otherwise looked alright. "Keep going! Gwen is keeping it busy!"

I didn't know what he was talking about, but 'going', I understood. I huffed and reached the end of the tunnel. I thought I had died.

At the other end was a valley, small as far as valleys went, but there was a city in the distance. It looked like heaven, or what I thought heaven would look like: pristine white walls, beautiful arches, and solid buildings surrounded by freestanding columns. It was a couple hundred feet away, and in between us there was a river that ran through. Again, I could feel that tugging feeling in the pit of my stomach, and I forced myself to think about something else. I turned around and my heart leapt to my throat.

I was so taken by the sight I didn't notice the male guard had switched places with the girl again. Only this time, she looked terrible. Her helmet was missing, revealing a mass of reddish-brown hair that stuck to her head with what looked like blood. She was using her broken spear as a crutch and limping as fast as possible towards me. The other guard was yelling at the monster, trying to get its attention by going for the occasional jab with his own spear, but I knew that it could snap the spear or the guard with equal ease. I had to help.

I heard shouting and bells ringing. In the distance, a group of people were running towards us, but it would be a few minutes before they arrived, minutes that we didn't have, and that was if they didn't have to cross the river…

The river.

"Hey! He needs your help! Hey!" I heard the female guard, Gwen, calling out to me, but I swallowed my guilt and ran to the river. You told yourself you'd never use this power, I thought. You said you'd reject your father. I hated that I had to do it, but I hated myself more for not thinking about the guards sooner. If I had stood and fought, if we surrounded the monster three on one, then maybe…

No. This was not the time to regret. Right now, they need me. I heard a pained shout behind me before I stepped into the river and turned around to face the monster. The female guard, Gwen, had fallen to the ground. The other kid lost his spear and was weathering blows with a shield that looked like a saucer compared to the monster's fists. He was the only thing standing between Gwen and the monster. I felt the anger and guilt burst inside me like a geyser. They were taking those hits for me. They were taking that pain for me. I wouldn't stand for that. I screamed, and I felt the water rushing to meet me. I charged the monster, and the river came with me.

I wasn't sure how I did it. I just poured all my emotions into a single thought: Fight. I pulled out the coin and flipped it into a sword. When I was halfway there I jumped and felt the water propelling me like a rocket. I was launched several feet into the air straight at the monster. Time slowed down as I gripped the sword with both hands and held it above my head like I was bringing down a hammer. I saw the monster looking at me with surprise and fear. I could see the guard staring at me, wide-eyed. I could feel the wind blowing at my face and the water giving me the strength of a superhuman – of a demigod.

I jammed my sword between the monster's eyes and it dissolved into dust. With nothing to land on, I fell to the ground, soaking wet and hurting in every part of my body. I coughed up the remains of the monster – it tasted like overcooked steak – and stood up to check on the other two. Gwen was still unconscious, but the other kid took off his helmet and stared. He was even paler than I thought, and his blond hair was now dripping wet. Everything between me and the river was drenched in water.

"That was… that was amazing," he whispered. He was clutching his shoulder where the gash was. "How did you do that?"

"I don't know. I just did." I looked at Gwen. "Is she alright?"

The other guy smiled tiredly. He must have been my age, maybe a year or two older. "She'll be fine once we get some nectar and ambrosia inside her."

He walked forward and stuck out his hand. Even though he was just in a fight for his life, he had a crazy gleam in his eyes, like he was just given a new toy to experiment with. I wasn't sure how I felt about that.

"My name's Octavian. Who are you?"

"Hi. I'm… I'm passing out." I fell forward, and the world turned black.

#fanfiction #pjo #percy jackson #Percy Jackon and the Olympians #fanfic #writing #OC #au #octavian #thesonofrome

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